


the Sun and the Mole Rat

by TCon



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst and Humor, Casual Sex, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Office Romance, filthy language, split personality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-22 23:39:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2525927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCon/pseuds/TCon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akashi Seijuurou was like the sun; beautiful, radiant and infinitely unreachable. It was an impossibly stupid thing that someone like him could ever be compared to someone like Furihata Kouki, who was so ordinary in everything, nobody would look at him twice should he walk down the crowded streets.</p><p>So when Akashi came onto him for a fuck, he didn’t exactly say no.</p><p>AkaFuri Future-Fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the Sun and the Mole Rat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATED: We have a podfic reading for Furi's angry speech now: :O
> 
> http://annielionheart.co.vu/post/109455779702/after-reading-tcon-circle-tcon-s-the-sun-and-the

  
— 

 

**the Sun and the Mole Rat**

 

—

 

Akashi Seijuurou was like the sun; beautiful, radiant and infinitely unreachable. It was an impossibly stupid thing that someone like him could ever be compared to someone like Furihata Kouki, who was so ordinary in everything, nobody would look at him twice should he walk down the crowded streets.

They worked in the same building, Kouki was a junior associate in Finances from the 3rd floor and Akashi was the President Director who occupied the top level of the building, floor 50th. If the entire office mimicked an imaginative miniature universe, Akashi would have been God or Buddha, while Kouki, a mole rat digging adjacent tunnels beneath the earth. It boggled the mind that they were the same age.

They saw each other every morning in the lobby, yeah, but it was more like Kouki was a part of the squealing crowd (sans the squealing) on one side of the room, and Akashi was walking on the red carpet, followed by an army of secretaries and assistants — looking one hundred percent like royalty, or one of those religious ritual parade thing.

They met a long time ago, several times actually, during highschool basketball games. Kouki was pretty sure Akashi didn’t remember him. Because _duh_ , he was Akashi Seijuurou; basketball star, handsome, rich, smart, perfectly-mannered with overwhelming charisma even if he lapsed into scary mode sometimes — but hey, nobody was that perfect, right? Wrong. Because Akashi was so _fucking perfect_ , if perfect existed and manifested into a person, Perfect would _kneel_ _and beg_ before those blood crimson — _red hot and_ _gorgeous_ — Emperor’s Eyes.

He probably had a huge dick too.

 The point was, Furihata Kouki was invisible. 

Not in the way his highschool ex-teammate Kuroko was (the dude got invisible in basketball court, it was amazing — freaky — but amazing), he was invisible in general sense. In he-was-so-plain-and-average-people-forgot-his-name-and-face-most-of-the-time kind of way. He was that nice guy from the 3rd floor some remembered by name. But hey, it was all cool. He had a job with steady salary enough to pay the bills and his penchant for _shonen_ manga — no girlfriend yet, no rush or anything — and he kept in touch with his highschool ex-teammates for occasional drinks and dinner.

Yeah, Kouki was a pretty average dude. Life was good.

So when Akashi came onto him for a fuck, he didn’t exactly say no.

Or more like, he was too stunned to say no? Too shocked? Flabbergasted? He was pretty fucking dumbstruck at that time. Like big time, saucer-eyed, jaw-dropped, face fell, deer in headlights — hyperboles aside, he also didn’t get enough time to think over the proposition, because he was too busy moaning and getting fucked hard against the walls and then on the rugs and on a table. It got real filthy, real quick.

Rug burns on his knees, elbows and one cheek later, all he could think of was yes, Akashi Seijuurou did have a pretty impressive-sized dick; Kouki’s shaking knees and aching backside were testimony to his masculine prowess. On the way to work the next morning, someone whistled at Kouki for getting himself a lay well done. He had a hard time _sitting_ through the office hours, but _holy fucking_ _geezus_ the sex was worth a thousand bucks.

Kouki would love to repeat the night on automatic, hopefully pronto.

Except, Akashi didn’t remember anything. 

More like, he didn’t even look like he recognised Kouki when he was doing his God-Am-I morning routine. Which, hey, _rude_. Kouki knew he wasn’t impressionable and people forgot his name a lot, but really? You’d think after you’d gotten fucked three times on three different locations, not to mention made to come on all of the three rounds, the guy who did the fucking would _at least_ remember your face. Right? _Right_?

Wait, he could be wrong. Maybe Akashi had been drunk. He meant, low self-esteem aside, it totally made sense. Why would Akashi come to Kouki of all people? He was probably out of his mind, or — or that anyone by arms reach would do — convenience wise. Yeah, that really hit the logic hard. It was just a one time thing — a moment of madness sort of thing. 

Well, no matter. He did get a great lay out of it. He could deal.

Except the same thing happened two more times.

The second one, it was a week after the incident and he had almost forgotten about it, because hey, work ain’t gonna finish itself and sexual frustration could wait another day. 

Kouki was doing overtime on Friday night, the office was mostly empty and the security guy usually came in around 11 P.M. for last minute patrol before the electricity was cut off for the night. So anyway, Kouki was working alone, the 3rd floor’s staff had already gone home and he had to finish this finances report because some intern screwed it up — he’d prefer not to mess up his weekend outing plans, thank you very much — it was around 10.13 P.M., the office was dark and he had his eyes planted at the numbers on the computer screen.

Then all of a sudden, _Akashi_ slammed the door open, made Kouki jump in his seat, strode past rows of cubicles all the way to where Kouki’s was — meanwhile Kouki was blinking and gaping stupidly — then proceeded to flung him over the desk and _sucked_ him off.

Totally at random and everything.

They fucked, by the way, for around thirty minutes and got two rounds in, over and against Kouki’s desk — Kouki came three times and Akashi came twice — he also didn’t get to finish the report that night. 

And whoa, second time. What in the name of Almighty Lord of Sex just happened? Did Akashi get drunk again, two times in a week? Because that wasn’t really healthy. Maybe it was the alcoholism thing or something else equally understandable, because — because there was no way that Akashi would have lacked in getting some. He meant — Akashi was a sex god, like really, _really_ amazingly good at it. Great stamina. Great Dick. Honest-to-God great techniques. There was probably roughly one hundred ladies in this building alone who’d _die_ to get into his pants.

So there he was, Furihata Kouki — average looks, meagre talents and one hundred percent biologically _male_ — had just gotten screwed out of his brains against his office desk by Akashi Seijuurou, a.k.a. the Unreachable Sun, twice. Unless the Sun God had a habit of mating with mole rats on random occasions, this was just confusing.

Or, maybe he was unknowingly thrown into a world of Harlequin romance novel, where Akashi was a playboy billionaire philanthropist and Kouki was his totally average and innocent secretary — except this was way less romantic and way pornier and filthier — and you know, gay.

Yeah, right.

They said three time’s the charm. And the third time was a confirmation that _no_ , Kouki wasn’t an unfortunate heroine to some cheesy novella universe and _no_ , Akashi Seijuurou was most definitely not a secret alcoholic — he was just your friendly, loveable _psycho_.

Secret alcoholic would be the better option.

So, the third time. It was two weeks after the second incident, Kouki was still in denial — the _‘Akashi is an alcoholic who’d fuck nearby people when drunk, which in this case, me’_ kind of denial — and it was a lazy Sunday morning. He didn’t have plans other than to sleep in until noon and then maybe he’d go pester someone for late lunch. He was all cuddled up and cosy, buried in the warmth of thick blanket, when the door bell rang.

He had groaned, complained at the walls and kicked his blanket to wake up, vaguely remembering the pile of dirty laundry in the bathroom. He drowsily went over the tiny flat to the front door, scratched his exposed belly and yawned, then opened the door. 

Akashi was there, standing by his threshold.

Kouki was in mid-yawn when he decided he’d gape instead, blinking as if Akashi would vanish like a daydream when he did so. Tough luck though. 

“Good morning, Kouki. Did you miss me?” Akashi had said with that smooth, seductive voice and squinted his red eyes —

An old record screeched somewhere in the back of his mind, and Kouki’s brain stopped dead — because something was fucking _wrong_ there. Something was really, _really_ wrong.

He knew Akashi. Hell, he’d worked for the guy’s company for the past _3 years_. He’d not only seen him every morning in the lobby’s — he’d attended office parties, events, employee trainings where Akashi gave speeches and motivation talks — office ladies from Kouki’s floor gossiped about him all the time, even had pictures plastered on the walls of their cubicles like some idol posters. How could he not have realised this much earlier?

Like how Akashi never called anyone by their _first name_. He did not speak in _demeaning_ and _arrogant_ way. He was friendly and non-abrasive, with perfectly practiced gentlemanly manners. He always smiled and not _smirked_ and certainly not in this _sexualised_ way. And — and —

And Akashi Seijuurou was supposed to have _both_ eyes red. Not one red and the other, _golden_.

Fuck.

Jokes on him, because they did just _that_. Like, twice, at least. In his defence, Kouki hadn’t gotten any since that last time in the office. He was frustrated, dammit, and sex with Akashi was to _die_ for. You really couldn’t blame him okay; he was officially addicted.

Post round two, the room had stunk of sex; clothes were thrown haphazardly across the room and the hallway outside. There were even two tied-up condoms lying on the floor. Kouki was on his bed in the nude, body exhausted and happily satisfied. Akashi had slipped into his pants and was putting on his expensive cashmere coat.

“I want to do this, more,” _Akashi_ told him, he had his back on Kouki. “I’ll call you, soon.”

And then he left. Just like that.

—

 

The next Monday morning at work, Akashi ignored him again — both of his eyes were back to a pair of normal red. No dichromatic red-golden whatsoever. No ‘come hither’ glances. No smirks. No signs of psychopathic stalker tendencies. So, Kouki did what came to his mind first — he took out his phone and dialled Kuroko’s numbers.

 

—

 

So, there were _two_ Akashi Seijuurous. 

One who was Kouki’s boss’ boss — mild-mannered, perfect and unaware of Kouki’s existence. And the Other Akashi; arrogant and abrasive with a Holier-than-Thou complex — whom Kouki casually had rough, passionate animal sex with sometimes. So, this was a split personality situation. Cool. Not psycho at all. 

Kouki did not feel terrified out of his wits when he received anonymous text, claiming the sender’d come over to his place tonight. He had a baseball bat at the ready, just in case. One could never be too careful.

Except that was the Other Akashi who turned up for a night visit. You know, the one with dichromatic eyes and psycho stalker tendencies? The Sex God Akashi came to him for a night tryst — his mind would’ve been blown if this hadn’t happened before. In fact, the first time he was pretty much blown away, three times. 

Other Akashi had Kouki on his back with his legs spread wide, his wrists wrapped in a silk scarf and tied to the headboard of his bed. Unlike the other times when they fucked hard and fast like a couple of rabid bunnies, Other Akashi was enjoying himself with dragged out foreplay, teasing Kouki into halfway madness.

“Come on, _give it to me!_ ” He begged wantonly. He didn’t care. It’d been a full week since they last screwed.

Other Akashi shushed him, his damnably skilful fingers _fucking_ him all in the right places. But Kouki needed something else — something _bigger_ and _hotter_. His cock was fully stiff and leaking with pre-come, he couldn’t even touch himself with wrists detained. Other Akashi had been smirking smugly as he ran his other hand all over Kouki’s trembling body, dichromatic eyes drank in his desperation. 

“Patience,” he had whispered against a nasty hickey on Kouki’s neck. “and you shall be awarded, _Kouki_.”

 _Goddamn_ , he never knew he could get so turned on by bondage. Other Akashi was _dirty_. Deliciously dirty. He looked exactly like the Perfect Akashi, which made it even better.

He knew this was wrong. Technically, they were going behind Perfect Akashi’s back to do the dirty, but also not wrong because Other Akashi was also Akashi and — Kouki chose to stop all thinking process because that shit was complex and he was hard and tied up and just wanted Akashi to fuck him already.

“ _Come on_ , Akashi- _kun_ ,” He had tried his best to enticingly shake his hips, arching his back for good measure. His entrance bumped against the head of Akashi’s impressive-sized dick. “ _Fuck me,_ please?”

Other Akashi twisted his smug expression into seductive predation, then resumed to thrust into Kouki in a lovely pace.

 

—

 

So yeah, it had become a regular _thing_ between Kouki and Other Akashi. They fucked about once a week at Kouki’s.

Kouki still had no freaking idea why Other Akashi came onto him, now that he thought about it. But hey, the deed had been done, _a lot of times_ , so he didn’t make it a big deal or anything. It was just good sex, not some romantic crap spouted by corny _shojo_ manga his female coworkers smuggled into the office.

No, no. Plain, average Kouki knew his place. Kouki was just a convenient — he took a minute to find the word — _fuckbuddy,_ and Akashi would be displeased if he acted like one of those heartbroken, scorned mistresses. _Ugh_ — Kouki shuddered — as if.

And Kouki still enjoyed all the sex, thank you very much. He was a hot-blooded young adult male and he had _needs_.

Yep, convenient fuckbuddy it was.

Except he started feeling guilty every time he saw Perfect Akashi at the hallway, followed by his army of adoring secretaries.

 

—

 

Other Akashi loved alternating between wild, rough sex and torturously slow, dragged out foreplay.

Four months into their fuckbuddy affair, Kouki got to know the things that really turned Akashi on. Like one time, Kouki was blowing him off, Akashi sat on the couch and Kouki was on the floor in between his knees. He had his hand clenching and unclenching at Kouki’s hair, muttering whispered groans and moans that were melodious to Kouki’s ears. 

He was about to climax — reacted too late to warn Kouki — and he pushed the brunette off of his dick only a second before he exploded. Kouki was rewarded with strings of Akashi’s cum all over his face that even got to his hair. Akashi had that _look_ of total domination on his face as he stared down at Kouki, a victorious predation painted over his smirk. And Kouki — he _loved_ that expression on Akashi. 

And he just had to mention, that night’s rough sex on the couch was even more intense than usual.

Also, Akashi loved to spank Kouki — had him on his knees with hands braced at the headboard, Kouki moaned and groaned as Akashi spanked his buttocks pink before he fucked him slow and thorough. He dragged his cock out until the head hit the rims of his entrance almost painfully, before he slammed it back in, balls-deep. 

There were times when Akashi gave him pleasant surprises.

Such as rimming. 

And _whoa_ , Kouki didn’t know that even the _tongue_ was as talented as the rest of Akashi. They were doing sixty nine; Kouki was eagerly sucking on Akashi’s cock and so did Akashi — until the redhead started lapping at his anus. And then Kouki was reduced to a goo of illicit moans and whines and whimpers as Akashi _ate_ him out. Akashi dragged it out for so long, made him come once or twice from it, in the end Kouki was too sensitive and boneless to complain when Akashi slipped into him.

But of course, there were times when it became less than pleasant — like all things that weren’t Akashi, imperfect. 

Like one time, Kouki was depressed and had some bad days at work that week. They were just done with their routine; Akashi was putting on his coat before leaving just as he always did after they fucked — he never stayed. Kouki was in bed lying on his stomach, he was watching Akashi putting on clothes when suddenly he had this inexplicable urge to _confide_.

Yeah, that was stupid. Like really, _really_ majorly stupid. His big mouth and him, both idiots.

Because the look on Akashi’s face was — how would he put it? — disappointed? Appalled? _Disgusted_? It caused Kouki to stop in mid-sentence when he realised he’d made a mistake, then he quickly tried to remedy the situation by dismissing it as nothing. He could feel his heart started jumping in his ribcage.

Akashi said _something_ (Kouki was too busy lamenting his stupidity) decidedly noncommittal, before he bade Kouki goodbye and left.  

Because Other Akashi was everything Perfect Akashi was; beautiful, perfect and devilishly impeccable — everything, _but_ sympathetic and understanding.

And Kouki was a _fucking_ utter _imbecile_ to have forgotten his place.

 

—

 

Clearly, they weren’t lovers. 

God no, Kouki couldn’t even imagine it — they weren’t even friends or acquaintances. As far as work went, Kouki was just a junior associate from the third floor. He’d have to get several promotions and climb up both the literal and metaphorical corporate ladders to be able to work under Akashi in fairly close proximity. Sure, they faced off in highschool Basketball games, but that hardly counted.

Again, with the Sun God and mole rats metaphor. Akashi was ultimately unreachable — Perfect Akashi, that was. Other Akashi was just an eccentric psycho who decided to bang him one day.

Even then, their relationship was only about great sex and great physical chemistry. It would never go anywhere. _Hell_ , there wasn’t even proper conversation _ever_ , it was mostly him yapping with the usual _oh yeahs_ , _I love your cock_ , _you’re so big in me_ , _fuck me_ , _do it harder_ and _come inside_ , cue the indecent moaning and groaning in the backgrounds. Yes, Furihata Kouki knew he was loud during sex and he wasn’t ashamed of it. People loved responsive partners, okay.

Kouki was like a shiny new toy for Akashi to fuck every once in a while, until Kouki wasn’t so shiny and new anymore. And then Other Akashi would most likely move on to pick someone else at random after he got sick of Kouki. Maybe he was just trying out guys, decided guys sucked, then he’d go back to girls.

After all, Kouki was just your average, plain dude with no redeeming quality whatsoever. He wasn’t a keeper.

But he was _fine_. 

“Furihata-kun, are you okay? You look… feverish.” Kuroko said.

Oh yeah. Seirin reunion dinner with Kagami and Kuroko. He forgot where he was for a moment there — umm, a Japanese bar near the station, he guessed. What? He just had some drinks, no big deal. One… or two glasses… or three. Five. He couldn’t remember. He was still totally _fine_ and _cool_.

“ ’s fiiiinne. Get me more beer please, Kuroko?” He knew he slurred his sentence. He knew his movement was wild and unsteady. Who cares. He wanted to get drunk anyway. Fuck his shitty job. Fuck Akashi. Wait, he did just that like yesterday. But he was an asshole and Kouki _hated_ him. Stupid Akashi and his stupid imperial insensitiveness stuck up his ass.

Kuroko looked concerned, the little _sweetheart_ was holding him steady. He was so nice. And he smelled good. “I think you had enough, Furihata-kun.” 

Kouki took it all back. The _traitor_ pushed out the beer out of Kouki’s reach, _the gall!_

Kouki wailed and acted like a spoiled brat until Kagami showed up from the general direction of the public restroom. Kouki couldn’t really tell, everything was kind of blurry and had like, weird clones in rainbow colours. It was funky and damn funny, so he laughed out loud.

“How was he?”

Hmmmhhmmm Kagami sounded _almost_ worried. Was he really that drunk? Kouki felt sleepy.

“I think Furihata-kun is upset… he never drank so much usually. Perhaps it is something about work, or personal life. I do not want to pry, so I didn’t ask.”

The traitor, give him back the beers! He wanted the beers dammit. Needed to drown in sorrow. He must have said it all out loud, because Kuroko was talking like Kouki was in the room again. 

“Furihata-kun, you had enough. No more drinking.” He paused. “And _traitor_? Really?”

He sounded mildly annoyed, which was funny as hell. Kouki cackled. He felt happier and even sleepier, was it bedtime already? 

“Oh God. Is he, is he _snoring_?”

“Furihata-kun? Can you — can you stand?”

 _Hmmm good night, Kuroko and Kagami. Hope you two get nice lays who aren’t dismissive assholes_. Kouki prayed for his friends from the bottom of his heart, keeled over and fell dead asleep.

 

—

 

The first thought when he woke up, was _oow_ his head _fucking_ _hurt_. 

The light was blinding and _rude_ and it was unnecessarily noisy and — wait where the heck was he? Because the bed felt way too comfy and plushy to be the rickety old thing that was his bed. And the smell was all wrong — lavender was for sissies. Kouki never used lavender-scented anything, because he was a _man_.

The damn light was too blinding though, so he’d be right at it in a few secs.

He was about to pull his shirt collar up his head for shade, when he realised he wasn’t wearing any. His hands roamed all over his chest and he felt — he felt furry. What? Kouki squinted his overly sensitive eyes for a peek and found out he was wearing a bath robe. Kouki did not _do_ bath robes. He had towels, the coarse and thin ones.

Okay, _what_.

That sobered him up somewhat.

He focused on ignoring the deafening buzz in his head, ugh he was never going near alcohol again, he swore. Which he knew he would disavow eventually, but right now he begrudged the aftermath. He was groaning for _water_ as if someone would hear him there — as soon as he could tell where he was anyway — he fumbled with the sheets and struggled to sit at the edge of the bed, head ducked. He _hated_ the lights. Why did lights even exist? Why did _Kouki_ exist? Okay, his brain was stupid with hangover right now.

He heard a door clicked open somewhere across the room.

“Ah, good morning. It looks like you’re awake already.”

Kouki felt dejavu when he heard another old record screeched at the back of his mind, _fuck_ , he thought, afraid of lifting his gaze.

Perfect Akashi had entered the room from a door that looked like an adjacent passage — oh yeah, he realised he was in a very expensive looking hotel room — and was sauntering in with a mug of coffee in one hand. Kouki felt like his brain had stopped functioning.

“I — I — what — umm… how. What.” 

Great, it seemed that he cracked the Speech Coherency side of his brain, too. He put to an abrupt halt on all thinking process when he realised he couldn’t recall anything from last night, the last memory he had was of going out for dinner with Kuroko and Kagami, that and of being pissed off at Other Akashi. He didn’t remember much after that.

Perfect Akashi offered him an explanatory smile. “Kuroko called me last night, it would seem you had one drink too many, he was very concerned about you.”

Kouki gaped.

Oh _shit_. He didn’t remember anything. What did he do when he was drunk? Did he accidentally tell Kuroko or Kagami about _their_ affair? _Did he tell Akashi?_ Kouki felt a rising panic swirling inside of his belly. Shit, shit shit shit shit. He might be in a _truly_ deep shit.

Akashi seemed to translate Kouki’s blanching complexion into another matter. “Don’t worry, your possessions are in the wardrobes. I changed your clothes initially because it smelled like alcohol, please do forgive me for not asking for your permission. You were quite deeply asleep.” He offered, sympathetic and understanding.

Kouki fidgeted in his seat because he wasn’t used to _this_ Akashi. Nice and well spoken and not _sexual_ all over.

He idly imagined Other Akashi would have just dropped him by his flat, not purposely pay for a hotel room to — oh shit. This was _suite_ , wasn’t it? Kouki could never have afforded such luxury for no reason. Several months of salary would be gone just like that.

“Ah um, Akashi-san, about the hotel room’s… fee…” He started, lips shaking and face paling.

Akashi seemed taken aback for some reasons. “Ah about that, I’m staying in the room next to this one. This one is my bodyguards’, you see, but I told them to stay somewhere else for the night. You don’t have to pay me anything, Furihata. It was a favour for Kuroko.” 

If smile could blind, Kouki would be blinded in joy.

“Then! Um, thank you very much.” Kouki found himself saying.

Holy shit, he was actually in the same room alone with Perfect Akashi, he belatedly thought. He actually _knew_ Kouki by name. Awesome. And did he hear right when Akashi said he’d changed his clothes? Kouki blushed at the thoughts that suddenly crossed his mind. Yeah, not happening, not with _this_ Akashi anyway. He brushed off the filthy images.

Then he paused.

“Excuse me, could you tell me what time is it?” He asked Akashi, feeling a lump stuck in his throat. 

“It’s Monday, 9:35 A.M..”

Oh no. No no _no no_. He was going to be fucking late for work. He was _already_ late because he went stupidly drunk on a Sunday and _overslept_.

With a jolt, Kouki stood up and dashed into the bathroom for a quick shower, muttering him being late for work to Akashi. As soon as he was done showering, he opened the wardrobe and put on his clothes, gathered his things and bowed deeply to Akashi in gratitude (“No, it is quite alright.” Perfect Akashi had graciously said), then he bolted out of the room in a great hurry.

Later on, he managed to reach the office at a little past 11 A.M., thinking he’d get penalised. His boss had let him off because Akashi Seijuurou had personally phoned her to issue Kouki a special permit until noon — she was ecstatic about being called by Akashi, he might add.

Kouki couldn’t forget how wonderful Perfect Akashi had been to him, even if it was all thanks to Kuroko.

 

—

 

He heard a _click_ from the other side.

_“Kuroko Tetsuya speaking, how can I help you, Furihata-kun?”_

“Kuroko, what did I do last night after I got drunk?”

A pause.

_“I called Akashi-kun for help, I remembered he told me he was staying at nearby hotel. Kagami-kun and I didn’t know where you live, Furihata-kun, and Akashi-kun has a car.”_

Figures, he’d never invited them over before.

“Yeah I know. But what exactly did I do, like, when I was out of it? Did I… did I say something weird or do anything out of ordinary?”

More pause. Longer than the previous one.

Kouki was getting fidgety.

 _“Well, Furihata-kun…”_ Kuroko started. _“You did… hug Akashi-kun.”_

“I did _what!?_ ”

 _“I’m not sure, but you were_ very _drunk. When Akashi-kun arrived on the scene, you acted very… familiarly? You started to fling your arms around Akashi-kun’s neck and hugged him. How do I say this? You don’t usually hug strangers when you’re drunk. Akashi-kun was surprised.”_

Oh, motherfucker. Holy hookers and strip poles and their pimps.

“Did I… did I mention anything?” Stupid. He did not want to dig himself a deeper —

_“You sort of called Akashi-kun by his first name and then — “_

Kouki abruptly ended the call. He’d apologise to Kuroko later, but right now he’d very much liked to look for a hole where he could crawl in and _die_.

 

—

 

From that day on, Akashi would give Kouki a nod and a smile every time they saw each other, especially during Akashi’s ritual parade routine. That led to jealous stares and loud squeals from female coworkers, but Kouki was too happy and elevated to let anything else ruin the day.

He hoped Akashi’d forget the disastrous drunken episode as soon as possible, though.

 

—

 

On Thursday night, Other Akashi came to visit. 

Which was unusual, because they had their ‘routine’ on Saturdays, it was an unspoken rule between the two of them.

“Kouki.” Akashi had stood by the threshold of his apartment. It was a cold evening and the news scheduled that there would be typhoon that night — Kouki didn’t understand. Akashi wasn’t supposed to be there, he wouldn’t be able to return home in time if he did. 

“Akashi, what are you doing? Tonight is —” Kouki had felt a mild panic in his guts.

“I know. But I am here, am I not?” Akashi had given him a knowing smirk — which only further confused him. “Would you not show me inside, like you always do, Kouki?”

“But — but… _why_?” He didn’t know why, he just needed to ask. His irritation for the redhead still nudged at the back of his mind, but he pushed it away. He couldn’t exactly refuse people when there was a storm brewing right outside.

Akashi paused for a bit, dichromatic eyes baring down at him. Kouki saw emotions he never saw before, swirling within those mismatched orbs. 

“Because I need to see _you_. I came for you, Kouki.”

Kouki was stunned when Akashi wrapped his arms around him.

The sex was different from all of the other times. 

It was slow, steady and unhurried. If all the sex they had before was to derive as much pleasure from each other as they could, or to test their mettles and endurance with endless teasing, this sex was so… vanilla. So ordinary. Kouki was straddling Akashi, legs wrapped around his waist. Akashi’s hands were loose around Kouki’s body, their erections rubbing against each other. They moved in languid motion, enjoying every bit of warmth and comfort they shared.

And whoa, they were actually _kissing_. There was never any kissing before. _Ever_. Kouki had thought it was because Akashi disliked it. Clearly, it wasn’t because he was lacking any skill, because Akashi’s kisses were so, so _fine_ and sensual and just _perfect_. It made him dumb and dreamy, that was how good they were.

“Hmmm, ‘ike kisses,” Kouki murmured against Akashi’s soft lips, and the redhead laughed against his in response. It felt so nice.

“I’ll give you more, Kouki. As many as you want.” Akashi’s voice was gentle, loving. 

He brushed a wild strand away from Kouki’s face, staring at him with those dichromatic eyes as if Kouki was the most important person in the world. Like this… wasn’t just a casual fling. Like there could be more to this. As if Kouki could have more of Akashi. 

They rubbed their erections together, leisurely taking pleasure, bit by bit. It wasn’t rough and it wasn’t fast, there wasn’t intense passion, but Kouki _loved_ it. Loved every minute of it. Loved how right Akashi’s sweat-slicked body glided perfectly against his, like they were made out of the same mould — ridiculous, he knew, his mind was just stupid with kisses and gentle sex. 

The storm outside was brewing with rumbles of thunders and the sound of rain hitting the grounds, the chill of the air went unnoticed with their shared body heat. 

“Kouki, I must apologise for what I did the other day,” Akashi softly said, gaze shone with a sort of gentleness. “You were upset, weren’t you? I am sorry. I should have been more attentive. I should’ve held you like this, that night.” 

And it made him want to cry.

Kouki ducked and pressed his forehead against Akashi’s shoulder, so the redhead wouldn’t see the tears pricking in his eyes. He sneaked his arm under Akashi’s and clung to him closer — as if his life would expire right at that moment, if he didn’t.

“It’s okay,” His tone slid to a whimper, breaking at the tip. “You’re here, so it’s okay. I’m okay.”

It was strange how honest he was being, and it was an even more of a shock of how dependant of Akashi he’d become. He knew he shouldn’t — _must_ be _stopping_ this _right away_. But he couldn’t right now, didn’t want to. His heart was so full of Akashi’s affection, and his body brimmed with their warmth. He just wanted to enjoy what they had _now_. 

The world outside be damned — this room was a tiny, miniature universe where only both of them existed. A world where the Sun God would look at the weak, little rat and would love him for a time. 

 

—

 

Kouki knew he was falling _hard_. 

Denial, denial and more denial had become some sort of defence mechanism for him, and he knew it. 

He was fidgety and dazed off one too many times at the office — which had set off a string of unfortunate accidents involving the copier machine and mechanical pencils — yet he somehow managed to wriggle himself out of the blame, like he had the devil’s own luck. Which was cool and highly unusual — he should’ve taken pictures.

Anyway, he was depressed, happy, mortified and dreamy. It was a weird cocktail of emotions blended together in a form of one Furihata Kouki, average man extraordinaire, currently engaged in a split personality situation — not his personality per se, but the guy he had casual fuck with — or more like, he had an ongoing _thing_ with one of the personalities, while the other personality hadn’t a lick of idea what the hell was going on. 

And Kouki was _falling_ — he nearly hyperventilated at this — _in love_ with the personality he was having affair with.

Oh, the drama.

So many things could go wrong in this dysfunctional relationship since its beginning, and he really didn’t need to start having _feelings_ about it.

That night when Other Akashi had stayed over had felt like a dream. The sex wasn’t just a casual fuck — they were making love. Oh God, did he just use the words _making love_? His skins should’ve pricked with goose bumps at such a corny line, yet he couldn’t help but to _blush_ instead. 

The morning after was probably the happiest Kouki had felt in a long time, waking up to a sleeping Akashi, limbs tangled with each other’s under the blanket. He had been just as handsome and adorable as Kouki had pictured in his mind; chin rough with red morning stubbles, slight bed hair and slightly parted lips — 

Jesus Christ, what was he, a lovestruck teenage _schoolgirl_? 

Kouki really, _really_ needed to stop. This wouldn’t end well — it couldn’t have. There was simply no chance.

He also needed so very badly to talk to someone — dealing with these … _feelings_ alone was eating him up alive. But he couldn’t just tell _anyone_. It could’ve _ruined_ Akashi’s reputation, especially since the main personality didn’t even know anything. Kouki just couldn’t do that to such a good person. Their affairs must never be known to public. But Kouki needed — he needed someone who would just listen and _not_ judge him.

Oh if only life would just be so easy, Kouki depressively thought as he walked towards the coffee room, wanting to wallow in his despair alone.

His devil’s luck had unfortunately run out because the machine _broke_. So he had to go all the way down to the first floor for a lousy cup of coffee, Kouki didn’t feel like going back to his cubicle, so he caught up with the elevator anyway. 

It was just before lunch time, so first floor’s coffee room was empty. Kouki was cheering up with the prospect of using the brand new Cappucino Maker they got on display, when someone tapped his shoulder lightly then he jumped out of his skin and _almost_ spilt coffee all over himself — key word being almost.

“I didn’t mean to surprise you, Furihata. Are you alright?” A concerned voice had asked him

Oh no. He really did run his luck out of stock when he escaped blames — because today of all days, he just had to bump shoulders with Perfect Akashi. In an empty coffee room no less.

“I — ah umm, I mean — I “ What was it about _this_ Akashi that made his brain go dumb? He hadn’t tried getting into Kouki’s pants or anything. Okay, if his brain could start doing the thinking _properly_ instead of his _dick_ , that would be great. 

He inhaled first, “I mean, I am alright Akashi-san. Please, don’t worry about it. No harm’s done.” Yes, perfectly calm. Good.

Perfect Akashi had laughed. It must’ve been his pleasant voice that was making other people dumb. Because _whoa_. “Ah, good. I was just going to say hi because I saw you entering the room.” 

“Uh yeah, the coffee maker in our floor broke, so…. yeah.” As if Kouki couldn’t sound more stupid. 

“Is that so…? I’ll be sure to arrange a technician to take a look.” Akashi had said thoughtfully. 

“Oh yeah? That’ll be awesome. Thanks.” 

“No problem.” Akashi smiled politely. 

Kouki was feeling super conflicted, Akashi’s face was both the first and the last thing he wanted to see right there and then, with his complex situation dawning on him as if it weighted a ton. He couldn’t look straight at him and not feel the guilt gnawing at his conscience. He slept with Akashi a lot of times and Akashi didn’t even know — did this count as rape? The thought mortified him.

“So… uuh, I’m gonna go back upstairs, now.” He had said lamely.  

“Ah, don’t let me keep you then. See you, Furihata.” 

 _Furihata_. Akashi had called him. He wanted to hear him say _Kouki_. He wanted to hear his name called with affection, rather than cold politeness.

He bowed to his superior and left the room, full of contradicting emotions.

 

—

 

Nothing changed. Their _routine_ continued.

Except Other Akashi had become more affectionate and gentler, and he was staying longer and longer at Kouki’s than he had before, even if he’d still leave in the morning. He held Kouki close in the aftermath of sex, cradling the brunette as he whispered things that made Kouki blush. They shared kisses more, the gentle chaste ones and the sensual, seductive ones. Akashi would look at him in such a way that Kouki thought he might love him back. His heart soared with hopes and dreams.

Kouki was happy. So, _so unbelievably happy_ , he was afraid he’d woke up the next morning with a different reality — that this might have been a dream all along. But it wasn’t. When he woke up, Akashi was sleeping soundly next to him, and it made him feel even happier.

He was so drunk in this bliss, he didn’t care about anything else. Didn’t care about how this would ruin Akashi’s reputation. Didn’t care how wrong the nature of this relationship was. Didn’t care just how badly this could end. This room was their universe and they were the masters. And Kouki was _so_ irreversibly _in love_.

 

—

 

This week they wouldn’t be able to meet, because apparently there was a huge office party on the weekend, sponsored by the Akashi corp., everybody was invited.

Barely anyone knew what was the fuss all about though, because the company’s anniversary party would be in another three months. Some claimed it was an awards event for the company’s top achievers, some said it was to celebrate the President’s birthday — the latter totally missed the fact of course. Anyway, attendance was mandatory, so he couldn’t skip — Akashi would most definitely attend the party anyway, so there wasn’t a point. 

Formal attire, also mandatory. His best suit had a hole in it last time he checked, so Kouki had to go shopping for another one. He wished he could’ve invited Akashi, because the redhead always dressed so well. But the image of Akashi going shopping with him was weird, he’d laughed good-naturedly at that.

Or he could just buy an identical suit with the one he already had. Hmm, that could totally work.

 

—

 

The party was a lavish, outrageous affair, because the company had apparently rented the whole ballroom of the Four Seasons Hotel. It was like stepping into a fantasy world. The ballroom’s interior was decorated in French Baroque style, with delicate paintings and rows of carved marble — all very noble and expensive looking. The catering provided overflowing stock of quality food and wine that could feed all five hundred employees and then some. The atmosphere was almost dream-like. 

Kouki had felt it was a tad too excessive for an office celebration affair — even their company anniversary wasn’t anything compared to this event’s lavishness. Something big would happen, and he wasn’t the only one who thought that way — there had been conspiratorial gossips across the halls.

When he bumped onto Kuroko and Kagami, his suspicions turned darker.

“Kuroko? Kagami? What are you two doing here?” To say he was surprised to meet them, was an understatement.

“Good evening, Furihata-kun.” Kuroko had greeted for the both of them, Kagami trailed behind him with a plate full with piles of food. “Akashi-kun sent an invitation for us to join the celebration.”

“The celebration? You know what’s going on here?”  

Something Akashi told Kuroko and Kagami but didn’t bother to tell his employees? 

Kuroko stared at him with slightly widened eyes. “You don't know, Furihata-kun? Akashi-kun has also invited the rest of our ex-teammates and his Rakuzan ex-teammates, as well. I thought everybody knows.”

That meant Teikou’s Generation of Miracles were here as well, and Akashi’s Rakuzan ex-players. That bit of information formed a pitch black lump within Kouki’s gut. He had a bad feeling. A dark shadow of nausea risen to his chest, he didn’t like all this secrecy. 

The bad feeling persisted, only intensified as the event dragged on. The dark swirl in the pit of his stomach grew severe and cruel, Kouki wanted to excuse himself to the restroom. But he couldn’t, not until the party’s main event speech had finished. He had to hold himself back and soldier on.

A while later, the room’s lights were turned off, save for spotlights for the main stage; the announcer soon asked for attention. The ballroom grew quiet. Kouki was struggling against these  intuitions as he watched the event unfolded, eager for it to be over with. He didn’t really pay attention to what the MC was saying, but his attention was brusquely pulled to full awareness, when Akashi stepped into the main stage — next to him was an unknown blonde lady, whose hand was delicately held by Akashi. She was beautiful and looked as noble as he.

Kouki’s felt his heart stopped dead. 

Even after the MC announced _a_ _celebration of engagement_ — he hadn’t understood. And Akashi, _his_ Akashi smiled as he held the woman’s hand and slipped a ring — with a large blue gem that shone in the spotlight — into her beautifully manicured finger. Kouki felt like the ground had crumbled beneath him and that he was about to be swallowed into the depths of the earth. Perhaps it would’ve been much better were it to really happen.

Instead, he fell into the deepest, darkest pit of despair.

_Engaged to be married. Married. Akashi is getting married. Akashi is —_

His mind repeated those words on automatic, like a broken radio. He could feel a large hole opening up on the surface of his beating heart and he was rendered hollow with a gaping, bleeding wound. 

Kouki couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. Everything was blurry. And it _hurt so much_.

“Furihata-kun? Are you… alright…?” Kuroko’s calls sounded so far away and detached. He sounded shocked. How funny. Kuroko was always such a poker face. Always had his emotions under control — Kouki was jealous. Something terrible must have happened to cause the mask to slip — 

“Furihata-kun… you… you’re _crying_.”

… … ah, so he did.

He didn’t bother responding to Kuroko. Kouki simply turned on his back, slipped into a throng of gasping crowd and vanished.

 

—

 

Kouki didn’t remember how he’d gotten back to his apartment.

He remembered riding a train, and that was enough thinking for now. He was dumbstruck. Everything happened too fast — Akashi was engaged to a woman and his love crashed and burned like he knew it would. The worst thing about this whole affair was? That he knew the ugly, destructive end would come, all along. And yet still, he went and fell _stupidly_ in love, with a man, who most likely only fooled around with him until he could cinch an equally rich and powerful young consort-to-be, as his official fiancé. 

Haha. He didn’t even bother to break up with Kouki directly. He just had to throw _a freaking engagement party_ into his _face_. Or did he think to make Kouki a _mistress_ he’d fuck on the side?

Kouki wanted to laugh.

He was pathetic. Caught in a trap and fooled into thinking it was genuine love — it might as well be, but it was one-sided and unrequited, so what was the point? Akashi was blissfully unaware of the whole affair himself. It was so funny, he could laugh until tears flowed out of his tear sockets like a broken tap.

He must be doing just _that_ now, because his face was _wet_ , liquid continuously dripping down his jaw and pooling on the wooden floor. 

It was fucking hilarious.

Ladies and gentlemen, Furihata Kouki, a plain and average man, heartbroken beyond repair.

 

—

 

He didn’t want to be alone. 

It was too much, too painful for him to deal by himself. So when his phone buzzed and Kuroko’s name flashed on the screen, he’d picked up the call and cried. He must’ve sounded pitiful and miserable, as he sobbed uncontrollably on the phone, and Kuroko only listened quietly to his broken words and incomprehensible sentences. He was being kind and understanding — and somehow it made Kouki cried even _harder_.

After he had released the worst of his sorrows — and his wails had slipped into soft whimpers — Kuroko asked for his address and told him he was coming over to pick him up. Kouki obliged and gave up willingly. When he went to the bathroom to wash his face, he saw in the mirror that his eyes had swelled twice its normal size, red and sensitive and sore. He shrugged and washed his face with cold water, before he stripped the wrinkled suit off — eager to be rid of it.

In daze, Kouki pulled out a large duffel bag from underneath his bed and he started stuffing it full with clothes, underwear, toiletries, his bank book and some of his work stuff. He didn’t own a lot — his flat was small and cheap after all. His hands stopped when he saw a couple of Akashi’s shirts in his closet, from when he had stayed over; freshly laundered and neatly hung on the hangers. Kouki bit his lips and slammed the wardrobe door close, his hands and shoulders were shaking like leaves blown by the wind.

And then he waited.

The minutes were cruel and Kouki grew resentful the more time he spent in that room. It held too many memories, smelled too much like _him_. He _hated_ it so much, hated the way it made him remember the memories that were carved into the marrows of his bones, knowing it was all deception and sweet lies. He wanted to leave, the sooner the better. He entertained the idea of moving out to another place, anywhere would’ve been better than _this_. 

A _broken_ _world_ was something he did not need.

Kouki couldn’t stand it anymore so he decided to wait for Kuroko outside — freezing be damned.

 

—

 

It turned out Kuroko had an empty bedroom available, since Kagami slept in Kuroko’s room anyway — so he’d offered Kouki to rent the room.  

Kagami didn’t seem to mind and he cooked some _mean_ meals. It was a wonder that Kuroko hadn’t gained weight yet. Kouki was grateful they’d let him stayed over at their place —  he offered to pay for the food and lodging, which prompted the rent offer. Kouki felt bad for intruding on Kagami and Kuroko’s life, so he’d told them he’d think it over first.

Even after a few days, he hadn’t told Kuroko and Kagami anything. They didn’t pry when he came into their household inconsolably upset, and they just quietly accepted him.

He still went to work, of course, going out of his way to avoid Akashi and all subjects of conversation about him as much as he could. Since the day of the party, his phone had been buzzing nonstop at night, there had been numerous missed calls and texts from Akashi that he’d ignored on purpose. He knew he couldn’t avoid him forever, however. Eventually, they would bump onto each other — and if he were to meet Perfect Akashi, oblivious and blissfully engaged — Kouki didn’t know what he’d do. He didn’t think he could handle it.

On his way back to Kuroko and Kagami’s place, Kouki stood by a bridge overseeing a river. The water flowed harshly beneath the bridge and looked deep enough to drown in. Kouki observed silently. He took out his phone from his breast pocket, held it out by arms reach and let go. He watched as the phone hit the surface of the cold water with a dull splash and disappeared into the speedy current.

The next day, he arranged for the cancelation of the lease and signed a new one — instead of renting Kuroko’s place, he rented out a room two floors below theirs, a small 1LDK was enough for him. The same day, he went to get the last of his stuff — he contemplated what he’d do with Akashi’s things and decided to put them into a cardboard box, intending to never open it again.

Kouki also started looking for vacancies in other companies. He’d sent out resumes and CVs, and hoped for the best.

 

—

 

Two months later, Kouki felt like he’d started picking up the broken pieces. He got a new place, a new phone and was on a process of nailing a new job — everything was good. He was building a new life from scratch. He had been spending a lot of time over at Kuroko and Kagami’s. Those two were so domestic — Kouki couldn’t help but to envy what they had. Anyone would have. He wanted that too, once.

He shrugged off the thoughts of Akashi and ignored the clench in his chest, as he resumed enjoying Kagami’s homemade burgers.

 

—

 

Three months after the engagement party, he told Kuroko and Kagami _everything_.

He felt like after all they’d done for him, Kouki owed them proper explanation. They had quietly listened to his story from start to finish, allowing Kouki to freely confided to them without feeling judged. Kouki choked up at the latter part and was overwhelmed — and they had been understanding and supportive. This gave him the courage to soldier on. 

As soon as he’d finished, they both wore an identical contemplative look on their faces. 

“I had suspected something like that may have happened, but… I didn’t know it was so complicated.” Kuroko had said.

“So, two Akashis huh, feel like I can’t blame you, though,” Kagami added. 

“I mean, you didn’t make the first move, right? Akashi — well, the Other Akashi did. But the way he broke it off was brutal. That was awful, dude. I’m sorry.” He scratched the back of his head, creases between his eyebrows.

Kuroko nodded. “I also do not agree with Akashi-kun’s methods. He could not be so oblivious to wash his hands off of this matter so easily. It is simply, _atrocious_ , what he did to you, Furihata-kun … however,” 

He paused, looked at Furihata calmly and continued. “However, I wish you’d told us earlier, Furihata-kun. Before it ended, I mean, I wish you had said something. This matter was not something you could have handled alone, you must have felt so confused. I wish I could’ve helped you.”

Kouki couldn’t say anything.

For the first time after months of grief and heartbreak, of lone struggles and wordless fights… Kouki broke down and cried. He cried worse than he did after that disastrous party. He had released all that had weighted down his shoulders and it felt — it felt liberating. He was finally _free_. His friends stayed by his side as he cried his heart out, and it was more than Kouki could ask.

 

—

 

Five months after, Kouki was doing well for himself. 

He had a good job, good friends and a good place to live. He had let go of all the unnecessary burden, and now he felt lighter and happier.

Even if he still couldn’t forget of a certain redheaded man, who was as beautiful and unreachable as the sun, but if time healed wounds, Kouki would forget in time too.

 

—

 

Six months after, Kouki was on his way home from work.

It was raining rather heavily — well, it was raining season, so it couldn’t be helped. But Kouki had stupidly forgotten to bring his umbrella today, so he was forced to stand by a store for shade. The fabric around his coat’s shoulder blades and hem of the trousers were soaked partially. He waited until the downpour reduced into something bearable — which took quite a while, around twenty minutes. It was much lighter than before, but not enough to avoid drenching his coat further, so he waited some more. 

He watched the soaked streets and people scampered around with their bags over their heads. Some were striding along leisurely with the protection of their umbrellas. The rain caused traffic jam due to slippery roads, and the cars were packed into tight rows with bare gaps separating them. The noises that were drowned by the downpour, rose to activity and the city was lively once more. Rush hour during a rainy day was the worst. 

Even expensive cars couldn’t get away from traffic jams — Kouki idly thought — especially that conspicuous looking vibrant red Benz from across the streets, it was thoroughly soaked and caught in a slow traffic line. The red Benz’s passenger door clicked open and Kouki had thought that the owner must have wanted to switch to subway or something — 

He felt a lump caught in his throat when he saw a familiar head of red hair.

It was as if the earth slowed down, sounds reduced to nothing and the world lost its colours — and only the two of them _existed_ in this universe— the rest of the world turned black and white and noiseless, and everything else but them was just simply _insignificant_.

Because those red eyes were looking at Kouki, lacking the one colour Kouki realised he would trade anything in order to see — to meet _him_ again. And nothing else was more important. The face he missed so much twisted into a myriad of different emotions, before it hardened into a singular expression that was decidedly intense— eyes still looking straight at Kouki — his lips parted stiffly and he yelled — and Kouki found himself unable to breathe because he had wanted to hear _his_ voice so badly — 

“ _KOUKI!!!!_ ”

Snapped from a daze, the world was filled with colours and bustling noises again, and Akashi — _Akashi_ was running towards Kouki. He suddenly couldn’t find the nerves nor the energy to _move_ — Akashi. Akashi was there. In the flesh. His mind was flaring with delight, Akashi’s name made blaring noises within the cranium of his head. But that soon fell to dread, as soon as he remembered of shattered heart and broken dreams and pieces of himself that took _too long_ to form anew —

At the pivotal moment, Kouki finally found the strength to move and _tried_ to run — but he was seconds too late.

Akashi had caught a hold on his forearm as he turned on his heels, and before he could react, another grip encircled his other forearm.

Akashi Seijuurou gasped for breath as he turned Kouki to him, red eyes bearing down on him. “Please wait, Kouki, ” his tone was oddly subdued. “Please. Don’t — don’t leave. Would you— would you please listen to me? I just want to talk.”

They had bystanders staring at them, Kouki noticed. It would be bad to stay in this situation for too long. But Akashi didn’t seem to care, he had a death grip on Kouki and didn’t look like he planned to let go soon. The decision fell on the brunette — and this situation was ridiculous and absurd to begin with.

“Alright. But we have to move somewhere else.” Kouki finally said, glancing at the crowd of watchers. He avoided looking at Akashi. “And could you let go? My arms hurt.”

“I — I apologise. I didn't mean to hurt you. Let’s — let’s go to my car, first.” 

Akashi loosened his grip, but one hand stayed at Kouki’s arm loosely, as if Kouki would just vanish without a trace if he let go completely. With a gentle tug, Akashi led them both into his car — all the while they ignored the curious stares trained on them. The rain poured over them, the cold wetness forced Kouki to realise how real this was. How real Akashi was and how warm his hand that gripped him, or how his red hair darkened by a shade when it was damp. Stupid, inconsequential things like that filled his head. 

They entered the red Benz in silence — Akashi insisted Kouki enter first. They were making the seat wet. Actually, Kouki was already damn soaked before and now he was halfway drenched, he shivered slightly. Akashi settled himself next to Kouki, looking oddly nervous and unsure. He reached over and pulled out a hand towel from the back of the passenger seat, then he offered it to Kouki. He had another one in his other hand, presumably for himself.

“Thanks.” Kouki found himself saying, he was strangely calm.

He towelled some of the moisture from his hair, feeling like a wet rat when he realised it was probably better to take off his coat. He needed to put it in the laundry for dry clean. Kouki occupied his mind with irrelevant things like household chores, because the silence was deafening and awkward. Akashi kept tossing him glances and fidgeted in his seat, his warm grip had gone but his concern remained. 

Kouki didn’t know what to expect. It had been months, almost half a year since they last saw each other. And despite how he felt, he was doing well for himself, building a new life without having to think about the redhead. Akashi never sought him out — sure it was Kouki who had one-sidedly cut off all contacts and moved out on his own, but with Akashi’s money and power, it would’ve been easy enough to find where Kouki lived and worked. Well, if Other Akashi had cared enough. Apparently he didn’t, and it was a reality Kouki had come to accept.

“You called me Kouki,” He muttered, in a belated realisation. He turned his gaze at the redhead next to him. “The _Other_ Akashi called me Kouki, why did you…?”

Two red eyes, he checked. This wasn’t the Akashi he knew.

Akashi returned his gaze. “We’ll talk about this at my place, I need — I need to explain everything to you.” 

So they went quietly. 

Akashi’s apartment was located at downtown Tokyo, on the 38th floor of an elite housing area, it was a penthouse that stretched for the entire floor of the building — tastefully furnished in ivory white and red furniture accents. It was a luxurious bachelor pad that suited someone like Akashi. It was funny. Kouki had always wondered how Akashi’s place would look like, because Akashi always came over to his — he even dreamt of it at some point, Akashi inviting Kouki for a night at his place, the two of them making love on Akashi’s bed. It was… a good dream.

Now, after all had been done and over with for months, he caught a glimpse of the dream again. Kouki really needed to stop.

As Kouki stripped off his coat — the inside was thankfully dry and untouched — Akashi offered him the sofa and politely asked Kouki to wait until he changed clothes. Kouki refused the offer for drinks, he didn’t want to be too comfortable; he only agreed to come for a talk.

A few minutes later, Akashi came back, clad in jeans and sweater. He sat across of Kouki, one fist overlapped the other on his knees. His features were twisted in uncertainty and slight anxiety. 

Kouki waited.

“Kouki, listen, I — I have a condition. Only my closest friends knew of it. You have known this, of course, I have multiple personality disorder. You’ve met him — my _other_ personality. ” Akashi started. 

Kouki paused, before nodding briefly.

Akashi cleared his throat. “He was born during my time in Teikou. I won’t bore you with the details — but you could say he was born because once, I had been an insecure child who was afraid of the pressure of life that came with being an Akashi heir. He was the Akashi Seijuurou you met during the Winter Cup on our first year of highschool, do you remember? He was rude, wasn’t he? I apologise, for him.”

So Akashi remembered Kouki from that time long ago, Kouki found himself thinking. 

Akashi continued.

“I regained my own consciousness during the latter part of the game with Seirin. At that time, I thought ‘he’ disappeared for good. I — My feelings for him, is more than a bit complex. He was a part of me that was lying dormant somewhere within my psyche. In a psychological sense, he was my _coping mechanism_ for all the hardships I experienced since childhood. A while after he emerged, I realised I could’ve regained my consciousness anytime I wanted, but I did not want him to disappear. He was like a little brother I never had, especially — especially since I lost my mother at an early age. My father and I are not close. Simply put, I didn’t want to be alone. So I gave my life to him, for a time.” 

Kouki stared at Akashi, eyes widened slowly. “I’m sorry,” His mouthed. Akashi only smiled and waved a hand in a gentle dismissal. 

“I told you, I felt he had vanished from the depths of my psyche since the Winter Cup, and I mourned for the loss of my brother. I moved on with my life, as the only Akashi Seijuurou left.” He paused and inhaled.  

“And yet… many months ago, I could _feel_ that he had resurfaced again. I had blackouts and there were holes in my memory, one time I last remembered that I was in my office, and the next moment I was back at home. I couldn’t remember what I did, or where I had gone to. This had happened over and over again. There were only lingering feelings — sensations leftover from the times he took over my body, and then I knew for sure. I was happy with his return, so I didn’t try to stop him. And I — ”

Akashi had a blush painted over his features as he glanced at Kouki almost shyly. “I — I only became aware of what had occurred in these recent months. I had… dreams and images of memories of — of _our_ time together. I tried to… to look for you since, but you moved out and quit your job. I didn’t have a chance to tell you.”

It took a few seconds for Kouki to digest what it meant. 

“…. oh, I…I see.” He felt heat rush up to his face too, and Kouki lowered his gaze, suddenly developing a keen interest on the coffee table. 

Akashi’s gaze was steady and unfaltering as he looked at the brunette. 

“Kouki, did you love him? _Did you love —_ _me_?” 

Kouki’s attention was pulled up with snap.

“What? I — “ 

Dichromatic eyes stared at him. The Other Akashi was sitting across of him, all of his senses bearing down on him. Kouki gaped like a fish and his mind froze.

“Why did you run away, Kouki? Why did you leave me?” Other Akashi asked, tone stern and vivid. Expression cold and unreadable. Kouki was suddenly out of breath.

Then he began feeling seething anger slowly risen up his nerves. _How dare he_ , he resentfully thought. After all this time, how dare he claimed that Kouki left him! 

“I didn’t  — you were — you’re getting _married_! How am I supposed to — ” Kouki stood up abruptly, throwing an accusing glare at the redhead. 

He inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself.  

“You never said anything. We never made promises.” He started, more calmly. Still glaring. 

“Our… _relationship_ was based on sex and physical chemistry. We didn’t exactly talk — no, we _fucked_. We fucked like rabbits on Saturdays and that was the only _genuine_ promise we ever made. You approached me, and I — I admit it made me happy that you chose me so I went along with it. And then… and then against my better judgement, I started having _feelings_ for you. Even though I knew I shouldn’t have any expectation. Even though I knew it would end sooner or later. You — the _main personality_ Akashi didn’t even know about our affair for god’s sake — how was I supposed to have _expectations_? Our _situation_ was goddamn _abnormal_!” 

He was screaming, Kouki knew, but he didn’t care. He wanted to yell and scream and let the whole world know exactly how he had felt.

“And then the party. You didn’t even bother telling me that you were _getting engaged_. You never told me anything, and I got stupidly — “ He swallowed the spit that was gathering at the back of his throat. “ — and I got _so_ stupidly _happy_. I was blind and deaf and _unbelievably_ happy. _I fell in love with you_ , okay? Worst decision ever, by the way, falling in love with a guy with split personality issues, what was I thinking? I was so _stupid_. And then the party happened and _BAM_! I was fooled again.”

He was laughing now. It was hilarious, so he couldn’t possibly _not_ laugh.

“It took so long to forget. It took so _fucking_ long to pick up the pieces you left — my heart — my love, crashed and burned and shattered to pieces. I wasn’t going to stay and watch how _happily_ engaged you were. I couldn’t stand it.” He stopped laughing, staring down at the sheepskin rug beneath the coffee table. His gaze downcast and hollow.

He was just tired now. So heartsore and hurt and mentally exhausted, he felt as if everything he’d done to build a new life was all in vain. Even though he knew that wasn’t necessarily true.

“Even if I did stay, what the hell do you expect of me? That I would want to continue our relationship even after you’re married? So I’d be the mistress you’d fuck on Saturdays, or when it’s convenient to you? I’m sorry, but I am not that low of a person. And I’m not that much of a saint that I’d stand to be a little side-extra in your life. So don’t sit there and fucking tell me that _I_ left _you_. You _broke_ my heart, you _asshole_.” 

Heat was welling up in the back of his eyes, and a drop of tear trickled down his cheek.

He turned to Akashi — silent, composed and _unbelievably_ beautiful Akashi — and felt a begrudging affection for him. 

“So to answer your question, yes I did love you. Maybe I still do. But what’s the point? You’re still getting married and I’ve moved on with my life. I can only ask you to do the same and treat your fiancé well.” He paused.

“And I think, we’re quite finished talking.” He looked away and bent over to pick up his coat from the sofa.

Akashi was eerily quiet. 

Kouki didn’t care. He just wanted to get the hell out of there, quickly.

“We have broken off our engagement.”

He stopped and felt like he’d been slapped.

“ _What?_ ”

Akashi rose from his seat, and was now walking over towards where Kouki was standing, while the brunette only stared dumbfounded. He placed a hand gently against Kouki’s forearm and he leaned closer until their faces were inches apart. 

Kouki thought he was just imagining things when he saw Akashi’s eyes kept flickering between both red eyes and dichromatic eyes.  

“I could not — _we_ could not forget about you. We have hurt you severely, and we apologise for the all the hurt and the pain we’ve caused you.” Akashi started, his voice gentle and mournful, face guilt-ridden.

“We have tried to forget — and to move on with our life. We wanted to respect your decision. But we could not continue with the engagement and the wedding plans, when we are _both_ in love with _another_. No matter what. So we broke off the engagement and have shamed the Akashi family.” 

Kouki couldn’t take his gaze off of the eyes that kept flashing on and off, between red eyes and dichromatic eyes, as if it was set on automatic. He was entranced by the strange phenomena.

“Kouki… Kouki.” Akashi breathed his name with a sort of gentleness and a sort of burning intensity to it. 

He stepped closer, arms spread to gather the stiffened body of Kouki into his embrace, he pressed his lips against Kouki’s neck and breathed in his scent, whispering Kouki’s name over and over again.

“Kouki, we love you. Akashi Seijuurou has fallen in love with you. Hopelessly and irreversibly. So don’t go. Don’t leave us. We promise we will make you happy, this time for sure — ” He told him, voice full of intent. 

“ — please, say yes. Please.”

Kouki was lost, lost in a storm of contradicting emotions — of happiness, fury, rejection, affection and mortification — it was absolutely _nuts_. 

He couldn’t breathe because his nose was stuffed full of Akashi’s scent, his eyes brimmed with hot tears and the large, gaping hole in his heart was being rapidly filled, in an alarming pace. His mind had gone haywire. Everything was blurry. Everything was vibrant and beautiful and warm, and he couldn’t stop crying. 

He mindlessly raised his arms from beneath Akashi’s shoulders, and placed them around the small of Akashi’s back. 

“ _Yes_ ,” he breathed harshly. His voice coarse, face wet. That was all he could say as he repeated the word again. “Yes.”

A miniature universe where only the two of them existed — was being born anew.

 

—

 

Kuroko was loading boxes into the moving truck, one at a time because he was _delicate_. Meanwhile Kagami had almost stumbled on his way a little behind Kuroko, a tall order of boxes in his arms had obscured his vision. It was a good thing he managed to save the boxes from falling over on the last minute.

“ _Bah!_ Just how many more stuff does he own!?” Kagami had complained loudly after tentatively put the boxes down to the ground, rubbing his aching back. “And why the hell aren’t they here to move ‘em themselves?”

“There are around 30 of them, Kagami-kun. And _they_ are currently managing the details of their move, so in the mean time, it’ll be the two of us. The movers will handle the furniture.” Kuroko said, picking up another box. “Some of these boxes will be donated, Akashi-kun said, because their new apartment is smaller.”

“What’s wrong with this one? Seems big enough to me. I mean, look at _these_ boxes. Not to mention the furniture.” 

Kuroko shrugged.

“I suppose they think a smaller space is more intimate.”

 

—

The End.

—

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist: Why yes, Kouki, you are an unfortunate heroine to some cheesy novella universe. Ha ha. HA HA HA. Get it? *smacked*
> 
> Next >> Chapter 2: Akashi's PoV


	2. From the Bird’s Eyes View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As promised, I wrote 2nd chapter in Perfect Akashi’s POV~ :3 I decided to write an extra chapter because the 1st one was entire on Kouki’s POV (which means it has plot holes on Akashi’s side) and I am tempted to write just how Akashi — who was oblivious of the affair between his Other Self and Kouki — starts falling for the Kouki he knows on a shallow ground and the Kouki he comes to know through the eyes of his Other Self. Yeah this is totally my guilt fic.
> 
> This is another pretty long chapter. I don’t really count how many words I write, usually I just write it until I feel like I’ve gotten everything down. Hope you enjoy. :-)

— 

 

**the Sun and the Mole Rat**

 

_Extra Chapter: From the Bird’s Eyes View_

 

—

 

_You’re 28 years old this year, you will need to be married, soon._

Seijuurou scoffed at the sentence that sounded more like an order from a superior, than it did from a father.

Feeling irritated by the letter, Seijuurou threw the torn envelope and its contents into the thrash bin near his desk. He turned his attention towards the desk again and observed the stack of black folders sitting on top of his workspace, a neatly arranged tower of documents that surely contained photos and datas of potential brides for him. 

How nice of his father, to be concerned of future _business partners_ for the Akashi family, he had thought bitterly.

This had been going on for a while now. Once a week, his father would send a stack of marriage candidates files right into his personal office, urging him to choose one among a long list of hand-picked brides-to-be. He had been doing this ever since Seijuurou turned twenty six. Each time Seijuurou refused, his father would harshly criticise his choice to remain a bachelor, claiming that producing an heir was part of his duty as an Akashi.

It was not because Seijuurou was opposed to the idea of marriage, nor that he had a lover, that he didn’t want to marry just yet. He simply didn’t wish for marriage as a business contract — as the way his father had suggested, by listing in daughters of famed politicians and wealthy businessmen. Sometimes Seijuurou wondered, whether his father had married his mother for the sake of the dignity of the Akashi family, as well.

Had he ever truly loved her? When she died, he had acted as if Seijuurou’s mother — his own wife — never existed to begin with.

Seijuurou did _not_ want to become like his father; a cold and strict man who could not accept anything less than _perfection_.

He took a look at the top folder in the stack, picked it up and flipped it open. A photo of a black haired beauty in long-sleeved kimono greeted him. He recognised her instantly; the second daughter of the head of Kawano conglomerate with whom he had met several times in social parties. Twenty four years old, her hobbies were cooking and dancing, she currently studied in management. All the descriptions of her that he read, were carefully picked to paint her in the best light.

He put it down on the desk again, prompting a button of the speaker at the right corner of his desk, to call his personal assistant. 

“Sakurai, could you come in my office and clear up my desk right away? Thank you.” He heard a muttered apology and a confirmation, then Seijuurou released the button, ending the call.

He leaned back into his leather seat and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had no time for this, there was plenty of work to do, Seijuurou thought. Having taken over the business of Akashi family three years ago and at such a young age, came with its own pressure and stress. 

There were always expectations from the very beginning, but to work with continuous effort with barely any time for personal life, had slowly taken a toll on him. And now, he was _expected_ to get married.

Seijuurou hadn’t felt this worn out in a long time.

The last time he had felt such massive pressure — he had _slipped_ into his own subconsciousness. Seijuurou shrugged. It had bee so long, he doubted such a thing would repeat itself again. Back then he was a child, no matter how capable of a child he was, he was still human. Nobody was perfect, not even Akashi Seijuurou. Now as an adult, he understood he could only do his best to right the wrong when he made mistakes. Such was the way of the world; mistakes and failures were inevitable.

When he heard a knock on his office door, Seijuurou pushed out all unnecessary thoughts and allowed his assistant to enter.

As an Akashi, his routine was set in a regime of stiff schedule; perpetually clustered around his job and his company, with little else. Every morning, he’d wake up at six, went to wash up and changed his clothes for a morning Basketball game for about an hour. Breakfast was at seven thirty, he’d showered after he worked out and then he would eat breakfast whilst reading newspapers and updates from the business world. At eight, he’d make preparations for work and made sure he called his assistants, secretaries and staff to warn them of his impending arrival.

As soon as he arrived at the office, his staff would approach him with schedules of the day and reports from various departments. He’d listen to progress, good and bad, and proceeded to give them his directions, as it was his job. He’d worked until a bit late usually, unless business dinners or social parties were scheduled beforehand, so he’d have to leave early to prepare. Everything was going the way it had always been, for weeks, until Seijuurou started noticing oddities.

Seijuurou had an overtime one time, nothing terribly unusual — as he had always been obsessively devoted to his work. But a peculiar thing happened, because the morning after a supposed regular overtime, he’d woken up in his bed at home, having no recollection of part of the night prior. Seijuurou had remembered working in his office, but couldn’t recall when exactly he’d stopped and went home.

It did not seem like he’d been drunk, else he’d have hangover by now. Plus, Seijuurou wasn’t partial to alcoholic substances in the first place.

The first time the oddity occurred, Seijuurou had brushed it off, thinking he might’ve been too tired. He thought overexertion was the cause, thus he scheduled for some downtime. Maybe he’d invite Midorima for a friendly game of Shougi over the weekends. He hadn’t seen his Teikou ex-teammates for a while, Seijuurou thought, it might not be bad to issue a gathering invitation, he’d like to catch up with the rest of them.

He’d entertained the idea of a get-together, maybe next month, when his schedule would be more open.

Except similar things began to repeat itself again, especially at night. 

Seijuurou would be in one place, and the next moment, he’d suddenly be in an entirely different location. Once he was riding in his car on his way home, and the next second he stood in the middle of a crowded street, three to five hours had sped up since he last remembered. He couldn’t recall anything; what he did and how he got to another place in a matter of seconds, and what happened during the wasted time. No matter how much he tried, Seijuurou could not remember.

This had repeated itself several times within two weeks.

Holes in his memories and blackouts … Seijuurou also started to notice certain lingering sensations and small evidence of what he might have done during those blackouts. Like how he suddenly felt physically worn out, yet relieved of tension, and how he discovered marks on odd parts of his body, after he’d taken off his clothes for a shower. Or when sometimes he heard a voice similar to his own, resonated from within the depths his psyche, barely audible as if submerged underwater.

Seijuurou knew this feeling very well, he could feel it — _him_ , clawing at the surface of the joint cocoon of their subconsciousness. He could hear the voice calling for Seijuurou to _let him out_ , to allow his body to be overtaken by another presence.

His _other self,_ had reemerged, once again.

“Your other self have shown up again?” Midorima said and stopped mid-way, a shougi pawn in between his fingers. A second later, he put his move onto the board.

“I believe so. Although, it seems different from the last time.” Seijuurou explained, he tugged the collar of his yukata slightly, adjusting the loose front.

“How so?”

“I am still here, aren’t I? I did not fall into my subconsciousness, like before. Now, I merely have blackouts and holes in my memory, from the short times he took over my body. However, I do not have any recollection of it.” Seijuurou crossed his arms, his hands slipped into the sleeves of his yukata.

Midorima had looked thoughtful. “How long has this been going on? It's been more than ten years since you’ve regained your main personality, Akashi, why now? Why didn’t he remain back then, after the Winter Cup?”

“It’s thirteen years ago, Midorima, and this time it has been a little over a month. And no, I do not know the reasons behind it. I can speculate, but it’s merely conjecture on my part. The last time he was born, I was experiencing quite the shock.” The shock of having nearly tasted his first defeat, Seijuurou added in his mind, such a childish obstinacy.

“The reason behind his birth at that time, was to bring me — to bring Akashi Seijuurou, victory. He was the embodiment of my desire to win.” He finished, his gaze lowered to look at the pawns on the Shougi board, and he remembered the awful things he did and the people he hurt to justify the result of victory. Just like his father did.

Seijuurou clenched his jaw.

“And now? Are you in _desperate_ need of constant victory again?” The jade-eyed man snorted, nudging up the bridge of his glasses.

Seijuurou furrowed his eyebrows slightly. “I’m not a child anymore, Midorima, I know life is not without its failures and mistakes. When something is broken, I do what I can to fix it, that is the way it should be.”

Midorima chuckled. “Why, then? This is an intriguing case, indeed. Do you plan of seeking psychiatric help?”

“No.”

A cocked eyebrow. “How peculiar. Usually men who realise such problem would try to seek clinical solution, and yet you won’t. Any reason for such a rash behaviour, Akashi?”

“I simply do not want to.” It was the truth.

Midorima’s lips stiffened, squinting his eyes behind the lenses. “And yet we are here, sitting on your porch and playing Shougi, presumably also to discuss your problems. But you don’t want a solution. Why are we here, exactly?”

Seijuurou smiled. “I missed my friends, Midorima. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“… ah.”

Midorima quickly brought a hand up to push up the bridge of his glasses, effectively covering part of the blush that spread over his cheeks. “I suppose… it is a legitimate excuse.” He cleared his throat loudly.

Seijuurou chuckled pleasantly. 

“Enough about me, how have you been at the hospital?” He stretched his hand and finally lifted a piece off of their forgotten game, resuming their match.

“Busy, as always, I haven’t the time to do anything leisure. A surgeon is always needed in the emergency ward.” The jade-eyed man brought a hand up to stroke his chin, thinking over his next move.

“I feel the same. At this age and with our jobs, we barely have enough time for ourselves.”

Midorima snorted, picking up his next move. “Takao thinks I’ve been abandoning him for too long, he’s sulking even as we speak, because I chose to visit you on a rare day off instead of spending time with him.”

Seijuurou snapped his gaze to the other man, his horse pawn halted in mid-air. “I apologise. I didn’t know.”

The other man shrugged, and waved in a dismissive gesture. “We live together, Takao and I, we meet each other everyday. I haven’t seen you for quite a while as well, Akashi. I rather m — missed our game of Shougi. I want to win this time.” He averted his eyes, seemingly fascinated by the clear blue Sunday sky.

Seijuurou smiled.

“Thank you, Midorima. How is Takao?” He asked. “Do you have any… problems I may be able to help with?”

“Playing the _father_ again, Akashi?” Midorima a small smirk on his face.

“We are aware we’d encounter _plenty_ of problems and difficulties, when we started our relationship. My family still stubbornly denies my sexual preference, as usual. Takao’s family, in the other hand, has been warm and welcoming. Recently, we have formally introduced our relationship to them a few months back, they are very supportive, inspiringly so. I wasn’t expecting such a thing.”

If there were times when Midorima would openly smile in joy, without an attempt to hide it, it would be when he spoke of his lover of ten odd years, Takao. It was such a rare occurrence, that Seijuurou opted silence so he could observe the honest bliss on Midorima’s visage. Because it always lasted for under a minute, before Midorima realised his slip and started clearing his throat, in an attempt to regain his aloofness.

“… ehem, so. I’d like to ask for a favour, Akashi.” He’d said after he cleared his throat. 

That was unusual. It wasn’t often that Midorima would ask Akashi for personal favours. 

“What is it, Midorima? Do feel free to tell me.”

He pushed the bridge of his glasses. Seijuurou could detect the minute trembles of his fingers. 

Midorima inhaled deeply, presumably gathering his wits about him. “Next year, I plan to bring Takao with me to the United States of America. We’re going to — to marry, there. W — what I want to ask of you is, will you be our witness? Surely, my father will not be attending, so I’d like you to do the honour, instead.”

Seijuurou’s red eyes widened slightly, eyebrows raised. He had not expected this, but the revelation brought a joy in his heart. “I’ll be most honoured, Midorima. Yes, yes of course I’m willing to be your witness! I’d be happy to. My sincere congratulations, for you and Takao.” He felt a pleasant sort of warmth raised from within him, when he saw his old friend smiled in relief.

“Thank you, Akashi.” Midorima sincerely said. “I’d like to keep the ceremony private and small, but Takao wants to invite the rest of our ex-teammates as well. However, I am not sure, the tickets would be very expensive. Perhaps we will hold an official party when we get back to Japan.”

Ah, the sparkles he saw behind those lenses. How could Seijuurou resist?

“Of course. I will arrange it, if you’d let me.” Seijuurou offered.

“I’m thankful, Akashi.” Midorima had said.

In the back of his mind, Seijuurou wondered how it felt to love someone so deeply, the way Midorima would give up everything to be with Takao, despite the opposition from his family and the ever judging society. He wondered if he could have something like that.

Marriage. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to take it into consideration, Seijuurou decided.

—

This was the seventh marriage meeting he’d been to.

To be honest, he was bored. Not disappointed, he meant, the lady was wonderful. Well-bred to be a lady of high class society, she was also beautiful and elegant. Just like the ladies he encountered in the last six meetings. He had been doing this for a little over three months, after he agreed to the arranged marriage scheme.

Even after the seventh time, he hadn’t managed to feel anything for any of them, so far. None of them made a lasting impression, something was always lacking. For example, the lady’s fair skin didn’t sit quite right with Seijuurou, or that her hair was too dark or light in colour, or she was too short or too tall in heels. Since when did he start being so picky? Surely, it was rude of him to judge by appearances alone. But even the lady’s demure femininity did nothing for him.

In the middle of a long, formal dinner, Seijuurou had excused himself to go to the restroom and distracted himself with plans for a gathering with his Teikou ex-teammates that he had set aside for a while, in favour of these failed marriage meetings. Kuroko, Kise and Midorima texted him back after a few minutes, while Aomine and Murasakibara hadn’t responded. 

In a passing whim, he told the other three he was attending a marriage meeting at a hotel, in downtown Tokyo. Seijuurou was slightly intrigued to read a text from Kuroko, he was having dinner with his Seirin ex-teammates, nearby the area of the hotel. What a coincidence.

As soon as he remembered he couldn’t make the lady wait for too long, Seijuurou closed his phone and left the men’s restroom.

—

By the end of the dinner, Seijuurou was too worn out to go back to his apartment. 

It was already 10.30 A.M., and the hotel was fairly close to the office, so he opted to spend the night there. He picked a suite room with an adjacent door, for his bodyguards to stay, in the next room. He was done with the reservation for the night and he was about to call in his butler to inform him of his decision, when his cellphone buzzed with a new call. Seijuurou had looked at the screen, wondering.

“Akashi Seijuurou speaking.” He greeted after he accepted the call.

 _“Good evening, Akashi-kun. I’m sorry to bother you so late, are you perhaps, busy right now?”_ He heard his former teammate said, from across the line.

“No, I’ve finished with my business some hours ago. What is it, Kuroko?”

He heard noises and chatters in the backgrounds, but not loud enough that he couldn’t hear Kuroko’s voice clearly. He assumed Kuroko must be in somewhere in a crowded junction, Seijuurou concluded from the shouted orders of food and drinks in the backgrounds, that he’d caught from the call. 

_“ — oi Kuroko, my arms’re getting tired here.”_

He also heard familiar a familiar voice — Kagami Taiga, he assumed. The loud and brash way he spoke didn’t escape his notice.

 _“Um, Akashi-kun, I’m very sorry for this, but Furihata-kun is very drunk. Kagami and I do not know where he lives presently.”_ Kuroko’s voice was back in line again.

“Furihata…?” 

_“Furihata Kouki-kun. He is a former Seirin ex-teammate, Akashi-kun. Do you remember, back in highschool?”_

For some reasons, Seijuurou did. 

The name sounded awfully familiar and nostalgic, but Seijuurou didn’t know why he felt that way. The only Seirin Club members he had kept in touch with, for the last ten years, were Kuroko — and by extension, Kagami, because the redhead was always present by Kuroko’s side. He could barely remember the rest of the Seirin team, how could that one name rang so familiarly in his mind?

He remembered dark brown hair, with a slightly lighter shade, and wild spikes that were surely styled with hair gel. His eyes were big with irises that were too small, anxiety shone on them, but with a gaze that refused to run away, despite the fear. And Seijuurou remembered his skin colour, tan and lightly sun-seared, surprisingly soft to touch. 

Seijuurou didn’t understand why he knew all these things.

“Ah, yes. I… I remember.” Akashi finally said, unsure.

_“Yes, um, I’d like to ask for help, Akashi-kun. Kagami and I commute by train and we cannot bring Furihata-kun with us, as we live far from this district. Your text said you were having dinner nearby, Akashi-kun. Are you still around the area?”_

Ah, so it was because of that. Seijuurou did think it was an odd coincidence, that they just happened to be in the same area.

“Yes, I’m still at the hotel. Actually, I am planning to stay for the night. Where are you? I can drive there to pick him up, if you’d like, Kuroko.”

He didn’t exactly know the reason why he offered to help. But his interest had been picked, Seijuurou wanted to know why this Furihata Kouki seemed to nudge at the back of his mind. He hadn’t felt this interested in another person for a while, towards a stranger even. It was simply ridiculous, that he could not resist.

_“Ah, thank you Akashi-kun. This really helps us, I really appreciate it. I will text you the location, if you don’t mind.”_

“Of course, Kuroko. Anytime.”

The call ended. Seijuurou then phoned his driver to get the car ready in ten minutes.

The restaurant Kuroko texted him was merely five to seven minutes of car ride, from the hotel. Akashi had not been able to get this Furihata Kouki out his mind, mouthing the name under his breath and feeling it roll so naturally to the tips of his tongue. _Furihata Kouki_ , he thought as his mouth uttered the name, _Furihata Kouki. Kouki._ Why? Why did his name feel so familiar, as if Seijuurou had said it a thousand times over?

His driver declared their arrival, snatching his attention from the private room of his thoughts. Seijuurou nodded and thanked him, then stepped out of the car. The autumn wind brushed against his face as he did. He tugged the collar of his cashmere coat to close the gap at his front. He took his phone out and called Kuroko to inform them of his arrival. 

A few short minutes later, Kuroko showed up from the small Japanese shop, Kagami trailed behind him, carrying a limp body of another man by the shoulder. The redhead didn’t look too thrilled about it. Kuroko approached Seijuurou, who was still standing by the car, he’d looked apologetic.

“Thank you for coming here, Akashi-kun. And I’m sorry to make you wait, Furihata-kun fell asleep on the table.” He’d said, blue eyes darting at the scene behind him.

Ah, so that explained why the redhead seemed so displeased. 

“No problem, Kuroko.” Akashi said, smiling reassuringly.

“I really appreciate it, Akashi-kun.”

“Seriously, my arms are getting _sore_ here! You two wanna talk and have teas until I’m old or something?” Kagami had shouted at them, wobbling in his steps as he manoeuvred his way towards Kuroko and Seijuurou, an extra weight on tow. 

Kuroko only sighed. 

“I’m sorry Kagami-kun, you know I’m not good with lifting weights. I would’ve dropped Furihata-kun if I tried.” The blue-eyed man said, pouting. 

“Shit — I know already! Don’t _look_ at me with those _eyes_! You know I can’t refuse you like that … ” 

Kagami’s face reddened, expression guilty.

Seijuurou watched in amazement at the exchange. The way Kuroko and Kagami argued could almost be mistaken as flirting, it was amusing to observe. He cleared his throat to get their attention, remembering the hours were getting late as they spoke. 

“Ah, should we wake up your friend first…?” He suggested, gaze turned at the sleeping form of Furihata Kouki, whose eyes were closed and face flushed with alcohol.

“Oh yeah. Hey, Furihata, wake up would you? Come on, dude.” Kagami shook the brunette rather brusquely, Furihata’s body swayed back and forth with the redhead’s brute force. 

After a few wide shakes, Furihata slowly opened his eyes, groaning incoherently. He’d looked disoriented and groggy, half-lidded gaze turning around to Kagami, Kuroko and finally stopped at Seijuurou. The other three watched as a wide, goofy grin brightened the brunette’s visage, when he took a look at Seijuurou, eyes squinted in slits and face flushed pink.

“ _Seijuurou-san!_ You came for me!” The brunette exclaimed, pushing Kagami off of him.

Seijuurou was surprised when Furihata staggered towards him, arms spread out in a welcoming gesture. And as soon as he stepped into his personal space, Furihata threw his arms around Seijuurou’s head and embraced him, pressing his face against his chest. The brunette giggled as he looked up at him, the grin on his face mesmerised Seijuurou.

“I wanna see you… I missed you so much, y’know? I’m still pissed off with you but, but I wanna see you, too.” Furihata whispered childishly, his words only audible to Seijuurou’s earshot. Then he stood on the tips of his toes and pressed a kiss onto the taller man’s cheek. 

Two gasps. Both from Kuroko and Kagami — the latter’s jaw dropped and mouth agape. Seijuurou was too stunned to respond immediately. Furihata giggled again and muttered a proud, “ _Gotcha!”_

Kuroko seemed at loss of words, his usual aloofness slipped off by a degree. 

“Um, I’m sorry Akashi-kun, he’s drunk a lot more than usual tonight. He’s not usually like this when drunk, I assure you.” He’d tried to explain, obviously worried Furihata’s actions would offend Seijuurou.

In fact, it did not offend him at all — much to Seijuurou’s surprise. When Furihata wobbled and almost trip on his own feet, Seijuurou quickly brought a hand to his waist to steady him, another hand on the shoulder to prevent the brunnette from swaying too much.

“It’s okay, I understand, Kuroko. I will take care of him for now.” He simply said, his gaze observed Furihata’s disoriented features. He didn’t quite understand why it had fascinated him so.

Kagami and Kuroko looked at each other, the redhead seemed unsure, but Kuroko turned to Seijuurou and nodded.

“Please do, Akashi-kun. And thank you again.” He said.

After Seijuurou ushered the brunette into the car, he opened the passenger window and bade the other two goodnight. Kagami had a conflicted look on his face, and Kuroko thanked him again. Then Seijuurou told his driver to take off. 

Furihata sat to his right, shoulder leaning heavily on Seijuurou. He looked dazed and unfocused, eyes kept closing and opening like he’d fall asleep any moment soon. Seijuurou observed him closely, finding the shared warmth connected by their shoulders to be pleasant. He found interest in the surprisingly long lashes Furihata possessed, and the way his parted lips muttered softly. 

Then Furihata shifted and turned his head towards Seijuurou, eyes heavy with lethargy.

“Seijuurou-san, where are we going?” He slurred, blinking slowly.

Seijuurou smiled at him. “We’re going to the hotel, you can sleep there all you want.”

Furihata hummed, sticking out his upper lip. Then he laughed, grinning like a kid. “Seijuurou-san, you’re so nice today. I like you.”

He didn’t know why he’d suddenly stopped breathing for a few short seconds. 

“Thank you… Furihata.” He’d said, unsure.

The brunette pouted. 

“Call me _Kouki_!” He demanded, bringing up a limp fist to pound at Seijuurou’s arm lightly. He muttered something incomprehensible under his breath.

It seemed like Furihata was the type to get overly attached when wasted, Seijuurou concluded, his demanding, childish behaviour seemed rather adorable. Furihata yawned widely, his teeth clanked as he munched. Seijuurou couldn’t help but to put a hand over his head, and stroked the brunette’s hair in a soothing pace.

“You can go to sleep now, if you want,” He told the brunette. “When we arrived, I’ll ask some people to help bring you to the bedroom.”

Furihata hummed again, staring dazedly at Seijuurou. He yawned some more, then leaned his head on the taller man’s shoulder and fell asleep.

—

“I’m very sorry for this, but I must go to work now, Akashi-san. Thank you very much for taking care of me!” Furihata bowed deeply to Seijuurou.

“No, it is quite alright.” He had said reassuringly, and the brunette looked like he was about to cry.

Furihata’s clothes were messy and wrinkled, he clutched his bag against his chest tightly. “Thank you, once again. And um, see you later, Akashi-san!” He bad a hurried good bye, bowed once again and bolted out of the door, running.

Seijuurou felt sorry for him. Maybe he should’ve set the alarm the night before, but he didn’t think of it at all, since he had informed his assistant that he’d be late for work today. That gave him an idea, Seijuurou realised, he could call Furihata’s superior and issued a permit for him. After all, Furihata was one of his employees. He could use some leeway from time to time, so Seijuurou picked his phone and dialled his assistant’s numbers.

He told Sakurai Furihata’s name and his assistant searched the database for his details, Seijuurou then asked Sakurai to redirect his call to Furihata’s superior instead of instructing his assistant to do it for him. 

Later on, he learned Furihata made it to the office safely, and Seijuurou had smiled to himself.

—

It was the ninth marriage meeting he attended.

“I don’t love you, Seijuurou-san, and I don’t expect I will fall for you anytime soon.” The lady had said to him, as they walked leisurely along the hotel’s famed Zen garden.  

He was taken by a surprise, by the bluntness of the young lady, who was now looking at him. He was at loss of words, but quick to regain his composure. He’d looked at the blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty, and felt intrigued by her. This was the first time he met a woman who’d daringly told him something like that.

“Would you care to tell me why?” He’d asked politely, with a smile.

She tilted her pretty head to one side. “You don’t look like you want to be here, Seijuurou-san, and neither do I, really.” She pointed out, surprising him even further. “I know for a fact that you don’t love me either, two people cannot fall in love based on one meeting.”

“Is… that so? Am I really that obvious?” He couldn’t help but to ask.

She had laughed demurely, covering her mouth with a hand. “Oh, I’m sure the other ladies were too lovestruck to notice, don’t worry. You’re a very charming and handsome man, Seijuurou-san.”

Well, she made a good point. Most of the ladies Seijuurou had met paid little attention to his mood, too occupied talking about themselves mostly. “Ah, I suppose, but am I not attractive to you?” 

The laughter died down. 

“It is not you, Seijuurou-san. My father wants this marriage meeting to work between us. But I — I am in love with another man.” She confessed, gaze downcast. “But it is impossible to stay with him.”

If he wasn’t wrong, her father was a businessman who came to a financial crisis until recently. The business had picked itself up and in the process of recovery, marrying into the Akashi family would indeed be beneficial to her father. 

Seijuurou felt the need to comfort her. “Have you talked to your father about your lover? I am sure he would want you to be happy with the man you choose.”

The blonde shook her head slightly. “No. My lover left me as soon as he learned of my family’s possible bankruptcy, perhaps he had been in it for the fortune from the start.” She smiled bitterly.

They chatted for a long time, hours passed by the time they finished the meeting. It was the first time Seijuurou met a lady who’d not seen him for the superficiality of his position as the heir of Akashi family. Even though he wasn’t particularly romantically attracted to her, he felt she could be the one he would come to love eventually.

A few days after the meeting, Seijuurou contacted her and scheduled a dinner date.

—

Seijuurou had recurring dreams.

The images of the dreams were heavily grainy and blurry, he couldn’t tell what the images were. When he awake he would be left wondering in the morning, of the dreams that seemed to repeat every time he went to sleep. At first, he thought it was nothing, but after a week or two of the same, grainy and blurry dreams, night after night, he found himself attempting to decipher what it was. The dreams seemed to get clearer after a while, but he still couldn’t make anything out of it.

He remembered brown hair, slicked in sweat, and long lashes of the same colour. He could see a blurred form of a person, lean muscles stretched and bent, and he remembered voices — small and broken, gasping for breath. Seijuurou felt a lump in his throat, when he realised he might’ve been having _wet_ dreams, and he was suddenly ashamed. He hadn’t have one of those since he was fourteen. And he had been dreaming the same thing _every night_.

He couldn’t see the images very well, but he could _feel_ it. It was always the same person in the dreams, he assumed, short brown hair and brown eyes. The skin that felt supple but slightly dry to touch, moistened with sweat as they moved in a blur of erotic passions and illicit sensations — He could feel it so vividly in the dreams, that he started waking to morning woods in his bed, left to deal with this problem, in the aftermath of the dreams.

Seijuurou had never felt so sexually frustrated.

He had no lover for quite a while, and had been far too busy with his job, to have the time to look for one. Even if he had someone in mind, it would be improper to do such a thing in the early stages of their relationship. He had no choice but to settle the growing urges by himself, in the bathroom.

Seijuurou had also noticed the blackouts were getting lengthier in time, sometimes finding he had skipped a full day more and more often. He still didn’t do anything to stop it — or to cure his infliction. He did not know what his other self had been doing without his knowledge, but he could be sure that that even _he_ would not be so stupid as to do anything rash or scandalous, to ruin the Akashi name. 

At times, he found bite marks and hickeys in odd parts of his body, and came to a belated conclusion that his other self might have gotten a lover. That would explain the increasing blackout period; he was spending time with his new lover. Seijuurou found himself wondering. It had dangerous potentials that things may end disastrously, if people found out Seijuurou was two-timing between his other self’s lover and his own fiancé-to-be. They wouldn’t understand the reason behind it, that within his body, resided two different personalities.

Yet he decided to do nothing.

He knew that unlike before, he hadn’t fully regained their joint connection yet and thus he couldn’t have known who was the lover of his other self. He felt that in time, when their former connection had recovered, Seijuurou would right the wrong that had been done, for the sake of his _brother’s_ lover and Seijuurou’s future bride. 

He was sure there must be a way to settle things without hurting anyone.

—

The marriage talks had been going smoothly. Seijuurou had formed a close friendship with his future bride. 

It hadn’t become that of a romantic kind of relationship, because she was still in love with her ex. But Seijuurou didn’t intend to force the issue. She was still heartbroken, he understood that and respected her space. In a matter of weeks after they met in an arranged meeting, Seijuurou was introduced to her ecstatic parents. Seijuurou had informed his father of their plans, and received a formal letter that cited a permission to marry.

The engagement party would be held in the following weeks, it had been a swift decision, so Seijuurou hadn’t the time to tell his friends. He chose to inform them by special invitations, personally sent by himself.

They went to the jewellery store on a Sunday to pick a ring. He suggested a large blue sapphire that matched her eyes, and she had thanked him politely. They would start planning for the wedding after the engagement party. Seijuurou didn’t want to rush the wedding due to his promise to Midorima, it wouldn’t be polite to overshadow the happy couple, and she had agreed to his decision.

When he thought how different his situation was, compared to Midorima’s relationship — his was a lukewarm, passionless affair without risks of scandal. A perfect marriage for the Akashi family. Not at all like the risqué relationship Midorima and Takao had; tumultuous and passionate, with a lot of difficulties ahead of them.  

Sometimes, Seijuurou also thought about his brother’s lover. Did his brother love his lover? Was their relationship full of passion, love and everything else that made Midorima’s love to Takao so desirable to Seijuurou?

Was Seijuurou going to ruin his brother’s chance at happiness? How could he tell his lover that they couldn’t continue their relationship anymore?

The thoughts immensely unnerved him.

—

Even when he stood there, on the stage, in his very own engagement party, it didn’t feel real. 

He had a smile on his face and as he looked into her eyes, slipping the ring into her finger. Yet he felt nothing. He knew he did not love her, but he didn’t deny the possibility of the love that could grow in time. So he smiled in front of the camera, in front of the gasping crowd and his closest friends. He held her slim waist as they stood next to each other, looking very much like the perfect ideal couple.

He didn’t love her.

She didn’t love him.

It didn’t feel real.

—

Brown hair spread across the sheets, scattered wildly. The lean body flushed red and moist in sweat, his chest heaved up and down frantically, and back arched into a beautiful bow. The taut muscles beneath him trembled, as Seijuurou urged inside further, fast at first, then slowed down into long, even strokes. 

He enjoyed how it made him shake, calling Seijuurou’s name over and over again with that adorable voice of his — raspy and thick with lust. The sheets rippled and twisted with their movement, as if they were making love on a sea of pure white sands.

He loved it. 

He relished in the pleasured moans and gasps and his name called out in short groans, breaking into whimpers at the tip. He loved the noise of the bed creaking violently beneath them, and the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh obscenely. He loved the way the body beneath him trembled and shook. Those red, moist lips parted as he gasped for breath, and the tears that overflowed from pleasure were like drops of two carat diamonds. 

Those brown eyes, wet and half-lidded, big with irises that were too small, and the minuscule drops of tears that clung onto surprisingly long lashes. The gaze that looked at him anxiously, yet filled with love and affection for Seijuuro. He loved it all.

And the way his name rolled to the tip his tongue, like music to his ears.

“Seijuurou-san…!”

Seijuurou woke up with a violent jerk that pulled him out of his subconscious brusquely, leaving him with a rapidly beating heart, and lungs that were suddenly deprived of air. 

He sat in his bed, taking large gulps of air in long gasps, desperately. His hand crawled up and clenched at the front of his shirt, just over his chest, feeling as if his ribcage was squeezed shut. Beads of sweat trickled down Seijuurou’s temples, his hair was soaked through and so did his shirt, as if he had run ten miles in minutes. As his heart rate slowed down and his breaths quietened, Seijuurou brought a trembling hand onto his mouth. His jaw was stiff and tight, teeth clenched. 

He had the dream again. But this time it was so vivid — the images were clear as water, the noises distinct and the sensations, life-like. Everything — everything felt absolutely _real_.

The body underneath him, flushed red and glistened, trembling and arching in pleasure. The same person, brown hair and brown eyes. Seijuurou couldn’t have mistaken, that face — _Furihata Kouki_. 

“Furihata Kouki… Kouki. _Kouki_.” 

When he uttered the name, a shot of pain stung him from deep within his mind. A sharp, excrutiating ache. He could feel _him_ violently clawing at the surface of their subconscious, screaming in agony, screaming for _Kouki_. And suddenly Seijuurou understood everything. Kouki was the one his brother was in love with. He was the secret lover he had been seeing.

And Seijuurou had crushed their love, unknowingly.

The pain escalated, stabbing him through the heart, from inside out. He was experiencing the full force of agony from his other self, his heart tormented in a deep anguish Seijuurou felt only come second to the day his mother died. Seijuurou could hear the screams and the sobs echoed from within the cranium of his head, vibrating throughout his whole body. He heard the wild beast within him howled, long and pained, like a wounded animal.

Drops of tears began to spill from his eyes, rivulets trickled down his face, staining the bed sheets in large, wet blots. 

The pain of a broken heart.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry.” He whispered as he sobbed faintly, pulling the sheets closer to him. The screams in his head continued, he heard a voice too similar to his own cried out pitifully, breaking down in whimpers and wails. He could hear his agony, felt the heart that was breaking apart minutely. Seijuurou wept for his brother’s pain, and for the pain he had caused Kouki. 

“Forgive me, little brother.”

—

The next morning, Seijuurou went down to the third floor, in search of Kouki.

But instead of finding him, he was told that Kouki had quit his job nearly a month ago. When he heard the news, Seijuurou had felt his blood freeze solid in his veins — Kouki left, he thought to himself, hearing a groan of anger resonated in the back of his mind. He didn’t understand. Why did Kouki leave?

Realisation dawned on him, but of course Kouki left.

At the party, when Kouki learned of his engagement, he must be broken hearted. Now that Seijuurou was engaged to be married, there was no way he would’ve stayed, was there? It made sense. Kouki wanted to get away from Seijuurou — to escape from the bitter end of their ‘relationship’ and start fresh.

He left without knowing Seijuurou was the _cause_ , that Seijuurou was the one who’d _destroyed_ their relationship. He was the one who hurt Kouki and his brother, so viciously.

No, he refused to give up. Seijuurou must explain everything. He must _right_ the _wrong_ he caused, he must fix the problem — he must apologise to Kouki. He asked for Kouki’s address, but found out that Kouki had also moved out of his flat two months prior. Seijuurou didn’t know what else to do, not when Kouki had gone to such lengths to cut their ties and to avoid Seijuurou. Kouki must never want to see him again, at all costs. And Seijuurou … he had to respect that decision. He had to stay away, for Kouki’s sake, because it was his wishes.

Even though it was _painful_ , the weight of the guilt and the agony of his other self. Seijuurou did not wish to inflict further pain on Kouki, even if it meant he had to hurt himself in the process. Enough was enough. He must accept this, and move on.

—

“Seijuurou-san, what do you think of these?”

Seijuurou snapped out from his daze, he turned to face his fiancé, who was looking at him expectantly. He hadn’t been paying attention to what they were doing — he tried to recall. Ah, the wedding plan. She had invited him out for a meeting with the wedding organiser, to choose curtains or something similar to that, he couldn’t seem to remember.

“Pardon me, could you repeat what you were saying?” He politely asked, feeling a bit ashamed of himself.

“I was saying about the colour schemes for the wedding… Seijuurou-san, are you alright? You don’t look well.” She gave him a concerned look, she brushed her palm against his cheek. And she widened her eyes. “Oh my, you’re quite warm, are you feeling alright?” 

Truthfully, he hadn’t been able to sleep lately. Every time he closed his eyes, Seijuurou would dream of Furihata Kouki. He would wake up in the middle of the night, and would be unable to sleep afterwards. This had been going for a few days.

“I… it might be because I’ve worked too hard lately. I’ll be alright. I’m sorry for not paying attention.” He offered his fiancé an assuring smile. She didn’t seem to believe him.

“Seijuurou-san, you should be resting now, if you don’t feel fine. We can do this another day.” She said, turning to the organiser to ask for a reschedule.

He felt guilty. “No, I’m sure I can manage a few hours of outing.” He tried to assure her, but she was having none of it.

“Seijuurou-san, please, it is quite alright. Be more concerned for your health, I ask of you. I will call your driver to take you back home.”

He couldn’t refuse her offer as she had whipped out her phone and dialled in his chauffeur’s numbers. A few minutes later, he came to pick up Seijuurou, and he was forced to comply to his fiancé’s wishes. Seijuurou hadn’t wanted to rest, nor had he wanted to be alone with nothing to do, as it reminded him of the unpleasant things. The silence bounced his attention to an unwanted reminiscent of Furihata Kouki’s voice — the way he begged and moaned and gasped alluringly in his dreams.

Seijuurou shook his head, feeling guilty out of a sudden. He shouldn’t be feeling like this for Kouki, it wasn’t fair to his fiancé or his brother.

But the Kouki in his dreams was lovely. The dreams weren’t always about sex. It wasn’t always about Seijuurou — or his other self — making love to Kouki passionately. The dreams were in its most vivid state, when it was about the ordinary things, like the way Kouki looked at him lovingly. Brown eyes squinted in joy when he saw Seijuurou and the way he laughed openly like a child, or the way he loved to eat his meals vigorously, beads of rice stuck at the corners of his lips.

And it was the ordinary things, the way Kouki smiled at him or his eyes that gazed at him longingly, or his blushing face, that made Seijuurou feel all the more guilt-ridden. Because they were the memories he’d reacted to the strongest, even though he knew those weren’t directed at him. The one Kouki loved wasn’t Seijuurou. It was his other self.

Seijuurou knew, but he couldn’t stop himself from wishing, that they had been all for him, instead.

—

The Kouki in his dreams was so sweet.

With a gentle voice and a loving tone, he would call him, “Seijuurou-san,” in a way that was different from how his fiancé did, in a way she couldn’t make him feel. In the dream world, both of them laid in Kouki’s bed, the cramped space forced them to enclose their distance. Kouki was sprawled on top of his own nude body, gazing into his eyes and smiling goofily. 

Seijuurou stroked his hair in a leisure pace, and Kouki leaned to his touch, his smile blossomed like a spring flower. He couldn’t contain his feelings for him, so they kissed and made love, Kouki rode on top of him whilst Seijuurou watched eagerly.

In another dream, he’d found himself watching Kouki as he slept by his side. The minutes paced too fast, and he felt a distinct sadness when he knew he had to leave soon. For some reasons, Seijuurou felt he had to leave when the sun rose in the east. But he didn’t want Kouki to wake up to an empty bed, so he waited, and he savoured his lover’s visage, wishing he did not need to leave.

He wished he could stay longer, far, far longer. His heart grew heavier everytime he walked out the door and when he saw Kouki’s face fell into that of loneliness.

There was a time when he found Kouki cried, and Seijuurou had been stunned silent.

Kouki had glanced at him as he sobbed, he hugged his folded knees as he sat on the corner of his bed, back against the wall. He approached Kouki, but didn’t know what to say or what to do to help him feel better, so he just sat next to him, on the edge of the bed, quietly. The air was heavy and awkward, and Seijuurou wanted nothing more than to stop his tears, but found himself unable to. He could only offer to hold Kouki’s hand, placing his tentatively over the brunette’s.

Kouki had looked at him, wet eyes widened in surprise, and ever so slowly, a smile rose on his lips. Seijuurou had never thought puffy eyes, runny nose and blotched face were attractive, but he thought Kouki was adorable, when he cried and laughed at the same time. Seijuurou felt extremely relieved when Kouki stopped crying.

Kouki was the perfect lover.

He never asked for anything and never demanded things from Seijuurou. He just kept on giving joy after joy to him, never asking anything in return other than Seijuurou’s affection. Even when Seijuurou knew that he was sometimes, difficult to deal with, Kouki wouldn’t complain, but he would sulk openly to let Seijuurou know he was upset. Seijuurou had thought it was strangely charming of him.

Kouki’s love was an unconditional love, a love that didn’t expect anything in return. 

He reminded Seijuurou of his mother; gentle and kind, only wishing for his happiness. He hadn’t known of this feeling in such a long, long time. He felt like he could be himself in front of Kouki, that he didn’t have to act like a perfect Akashi, he didn’t need to put up faces and he didn’t need to lie to others or himself. Kouki overwhelmed him with the depths of his affection, spoiling him rotten with his love.

He was drunk, drunk in love and in Kouki. He wanted to drown himself in this happiness, and he wished for it to never end.

When Seijuurou woke up, he felt his were cheeks wet and tears flowed out in streams, soaking the pillow.

The dreams ended when morning came, each time he was pulled out of the paradise, into a reality without Kouki’s presence by his side. A reality in which he was due to a heartless marriage to a woman he couldn’t come to love. And that was why he couldn’t stop the tears, when morning inevitably came. 

If he had to know of this aching pain and such a deep loneliness, Seijuurou wished he never knew it in the first place. He wished he had never known of Kouki’s love, his loving voice and his beautiful smile. He had never been this miserable, never been so deeply in love with someone who had gotten away and left him — never even truly been with Seijuurou. Someone who was in love with the other aspect of himself.

And so he cried into his hands, a grown man his age, heartbroken and wept pitifully. As if he was experiencing a broken first love, thirteen years younger than he was.

—

“Seijuurou-san, I’m returning this to you.” His fiancé told him one afternoon, pushing the shapphire blue ring on the desk, towards him.

Seijuurou had been shocked, the words were caught in his throat when he gazed up at the blonde beauty in front of him, at loss of words. The silence between them stretched for a few more seconds, before he could find his voice again. 

“Why?” Was all that he could say.

She had sighed, arms crossed over her chest. “Seijuurou-san, you don’t love me. I cannot force you to marry me out of obligation.”

Seijuurou gaped, eyes widened. “I — I don’t understand.”

Her blue eyes softened as he gazed at him, kindness was reflected behind those clear azure gems. “Seijuurou-san, you’re in love with another person, aren’t you?” She stated it as if it was a fact, not a question.

He felt a lump appear in his throat. “How do you…? I did not cheat on you, please don’t misunderstand.” He tried to explain, panic rose to his head.

She shook her pretty head. “I know you didn’t cheat on me, Seijuurou-san, I don’t think you’re capable of doing such things.” She said. “No, you did not cheat on me. Then your love must be unrequited, Seijuurou-san. That person does not return your feelings, do they?”

Once again, Seijuurou was caught unawares. He could only stare at her blankly.

She only smiled. “I know how it felt, Seijuurou-san, I’ve been there myself. You… you look just like me back then, that was how I knew. You’re in love with another person, but your feelings aren’t returned. That’s why I can’t do this anymore, please break up with me, Seijuurou-san.”

“I — ”

“You’ve been wonderful to me, Seijuurou-san. You have been the perfect, gentlemanly fiancé, more than I could wish for. But as you cannot fall in love with me, I also, cannot fall in love with you, Seijuurou-san. We cannot be married just to lick each other’s wounds, or for you to help my father’s business. I’m sure we will be fine, we’re tougher than you think.” 

“Akari… it’s not like that.” Seijuurou started.

“No, Seijuurou-san, the one who can make you happy is not me, you do realise this, don’t you?”

The question rendered him silent. Seijuurou could not find the voice to reply her.

“Well, I don’t have the right to end things first, because your family is higher in status. And I know you won’t be the first to end it. So I came here to ask you to break up with me, instead.” She had a smile on her face as she asked once more. “Please break up with me, Seijuurou-san.”

Seijuurou’s mouth clamped shut. He couldn’t deny his feelings, nor refuse his fiancé’s desire to end things between them. He knew his heart had strayed, and it wasn’t fair to bind her to him in matrimony, when his heart belonged to another. In the end, Seijuurou relented, granting her wishes. 

“Thank you for everything, Seijuurou-san. I really wish you will find happiness.” Akari had said to him, giving him a genuine smile.

Seijuurou had returned her smile. He felt neither ire nor hatred for her, and he didn’t feel sad when they ended their engagement.

“I wish you’ll find happiness too, Akari.”

There would be blood and mess after they announced the end of their engagement, Seijuurou had to brace himself.

—

The reactions from his father and Akari’s family had been as disastrous as he’d thought. The media had gone into a frenzy, gossip tabloids came up with wild, colourful speculations over what caused their breakup. Paparazzi camped outside of his office and apartment for days at a time, in hopes of getting an exclusive interview from Seijuurou, or to snap scandalous pictures to sell their papers.

Seijuurou was just tired of it all.

He used his influence to curb the sensation, after a while, crushing the tabloids that wrote salacious claims and slanders about him and his ex. 

He drove away the paparazzi before they could catch a whiff of his former affairs — especially about Kouki. Seijuurou did whatever he could to destroy evidence or rumours about their relationship, devoting himself into tracking down potential witnesses and buying off their silence. He didn’t want Kouki to suffer more than what Seijuurou had already caused him. The excitement died down fairly quickly in result, in just less than a month, everything nearly returned to normal.

His father had been especially vicious, he had called him into the main Akashi house to voice out his criticism and disappointment to Seijuurou, for his failed engagement, and demanded him to choose another potential bride to regain the Akashi family honour. For the first time, Seijuurou hadn’t cared for the bitter old man’s personal opinions. He only sat there on a chair, listened disinterestedly as his father lashed out at him, then left in silence. 

He knew being ignored or treated as insignificant was something his perfectionist father couldn’t stand, but he could’ve cared less. His father was screaming in rage as he left the room, he didn’t intend to return to the blasted house for a long while. He still had to deal with his work, the scandal and his own personal problem. He didn’t care for the petty things his senile father had to say.

Every night, he still dreamed of Kouki. And every night he would wake up, hollowed and grief-stricken.

He barely had blackouts anymore. His other self had stayed eerily quiet inside of him, but Seijuurou could still feel his presence in the back of his mind. He wished he could do something for the both of them, but he knew he could do nothing. They could not forget about Kouki, no matter how much they tried. The only consolation he got, was that he was able to protect Kouki from the worst part of the media. Nobody knew nor found out about them, and he made sure it stayed that way.

Life went on with or without Kouki, as empty as it was, Seijuurou still had responsibility over his employees, he couldn’t drown in sorrow forever. He could only wish Kouki was happy somewhere, even if it wasn’t with Seijuurou, and even if they may never meet again. It didn’t matter. If it helped Kouki to forget his pain, Seijuurou would do anything for him, even if Seijuurou were to be forgotten.

But if he could wish for one thing, Seijuurou wanted to meet Kouki again. He wanted it more than anything else, to look upon his beloved’s face and to hear his voice, to feel the warmth of his skin. Seijuurou knew he asked too much, not after he had hurt Kouki so badly.

Until one rainy day, after a long day of work, Seijuurou had sat in his car, caught in a traffic jam. 

The day was cold and gloomy, as if the weather reflected what was inside of his heart, like a movie cliché. His car didn’t seem to move, so Seijuurou turned his attention to look around the drenched streets, watching as pedestrians scattering about to avoid the rain. He felt his heart stopped beating in his ribcage when he saw a familiar figure, standing in front of a store by the sidewalk. His blood ran cold.

It was an automatic response, Seijuurou didn’t think when he opened the passenger door abruptly, the rain pouring over him and soaking his expensive coat. He didn’t care for the cold and he didn’t care for the public’s gaze. He didn’t care of consequences or risks or scandals. The world had lost its colours, the noises quietened to a deathly silence and the earth slowed down its rotation, there was only Kouki in his eyes and nothing else mattered.

He saw those eyes looked at him and he felt himself soar, he opened his mouth as he leaped forward.

“KOUKI!!!”

The dark hollow within him rapidly disintegrated, replaced by a dizzying, blinding euphoria.

—

The End.

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath Note:
> 
> Thank you very much for reading this story! Somehow it’s gotten rather long, isn’t it? (^^;) I originally wanted to write a one-shot, then it turned into a two long shots. Like what? The differences between chapter 1 (by Kouki’s POV as an ordinary guy) and chapter 2 (by Akashi’s POV as a mature man) are quite something, don’t you think? But they have different personalities, so I went for different styles of writing, while Kouki was more comical and open about his feelings, Akashi was more subdued and reserved. It was interesting to write them in different perspectives, and about this story, with its complication rooted from Seijuurou’s split personality. 
> 
> Why did Seijuurou choose a girl like Akari as his fiancé? I think it’s because secretly, Seijuuro thirsts for love. He never did receive much from his father, and the only one who gave him unconditional love was his mother, who died when he was young. When Seijuurou sees other people in love, he envies them. Thus, when he sees how much Akari, despite betrayed, still in love with her ex, he wishes he could have that too. Thus he’d chosen her over the other lovestruck ladies. This’s also what makes him fall in love with Kouki, with his sincere and honest way of loving.
> 
> About Kouki. I think he’s an ordinary dude; laid back, just cruising along with life. But deep down, he is honest and lonely. He wishes for someone to look at him for who he is, despite him not possessing prominent features. He also has low self-esteem, which makes him rather relatable. But due to this, he doesn’t realise his other good points, which is a shame. He may be a little anxious and insecure, but Kouki is actually strong when things get tough and he’s not afraid to stand up for himself. This is what ultimately makes him all the more attractive to both Akashi Seijuurous, who favour people with dignity.
> 
> This fic had received a lot of support and I am thankful. I have enjoyed writing this and may attempt to write another AkaFuri story in the future. I still have to finish up Beastly Call though. Well, one thing at a time, yes? :D

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Sun and the Mole Rat [passage podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3251333) by [secrettemplars (tricycleamoving)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricycleamoving/pseuds/secrettemplars)




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